The Cathedral of Angels Tears
by L.C. Techno
Summary: Love, lust, friendship, betrayal, trust, complexity... I wish I could say that this story have those things but they don't. It's just some pointless, plotless stuff about a cathedral, a thief and her past.
1. Minamalas Being Unlucky

_The sky was pitch black and the winds were biting cold. A spiky-haired novice fought his way up a hill. Drenched and drowning every second, he forced his lungs to take in air. He heaved his burden and took another step forward. But he couldn't; he fell on his knee. The cloth was whisked by the wind and the little girl in the novice's arms was left unprotected. The novice tightened his grip and forced himself up. Swaying, he made it up to the top, where the imposing figure of a small cathedral finally greeted him._

_Supporting the girl with only one arm, he pounded on the thick wood doors. Shouting with rage, he gathered his remaining strength and punched the door. It swung inwards, not so much as a dent. He dragged himself in, and went pass the pews. Laying the girl on the floor, he glanced at his broken hand. There was a nasty scrape on it and new blood mixed the dried brown stains. A bloody drop splashed on the girl but still she remained unconscious. There were splotches of dried blood on her. The novice laid his hands on the floor. Something warm ran down his face contrasting the cold wetness._

_"I'm sorry, so sorry..." he blubbered."At least here, you'll be safe." And even if he felt that he had no right, he planted a small kiss on her forehead. She finally stirred and her sight met a boyish face with red hair crying over her. She slipped back to sleep, feeling very cold._

_"Who's there?" The novice snapped up and quickly ran to the door. Behind the altar, from the recesses of a wall, a door clicked open. Two young acolytes entered, one serious looking and another quite handsome. The blond one held up a lantern. _

_"I'm quite sure I heard something, Aster," one said._

_"I know, Wings, I've got ears!", his companion spat out. "Who's the..."_

_Upon the sight of the bloodied girl, the acolyte who cried out, exclaimed, "I'll call Father!" and ran away. His companion, a newly appointed acolyte, brushed up his blond hair: a sign of action. He was infusing healing magic by holding the girl's hand when Father came. The priest took one look and scooped the girl in his arms. Closing his eyes, an enormous ring of energy surrounded him. The acolytes stood back in wonder. The girl opened her eyes and the priest's smile greeted her. And finally, for the first time in her short life, she felt warm.

* * *

_

_**MINAMALAS-BEING UNLUCKY**_

Malas leaned against the dusty, brick wall, her eyes piercing the throng of people walking along the streets of Morroc. She waited, looking for an opportunity, a moment which to strike. Her chest was heaving, a sign that she was preparing for action. After couple of years, she still felt nervous. She didn't have a devil-may-care attitude or a smirk full of self-satisfaction or confidence. She did acquire a heart of steel and ferocity of a frightened desert wolf. Heat was beginning to get to her.

"Darn, it's so hot. I still have haven't gotten used to this ridiculous outfit." She slipped her yellow jacket a bit, the air cooling her shoulders. She closed her eyes and sighed. The rest of her upper body felt cool because everything but her considerable chest was bare. A tight black bikini held it in place and Malas wished that the rest of her uniform felt like that, cool. Her eyes snapped opened and dark eyes began to roam the streets again then quickly stopped.

_"There!"_

In one swift movement, she pulled back her jacket and bolted across the street. She dodged most of the populace so effectively that most felt nothing but a draft of wind. Her determined eyes never left the back of unsuspecting mage. _"You're mine!"_ Her thoughts screamed. She put her foot forward and slid, aiming for the moment when the mage would hold out his moneybag. Unfortunately, the mage had detected her and at the moment Malas was hoping for...he swerved the other way.

_"Damn..."_ was all she could say as she slid into the mage's coat. She pounced to the left, slamming into the magician's body. He toppled over with Malas on top of him, reaching for the moneybag. He roughly shoved her aside, stood up and began to run away!

Malas rubbed her bruised face and began to give chase. The people, who had stopped to watch their struggle, did nothing. It was too common an occurrence these days. One hardened thief even clucked, "Such effort for such a small amount."

"WAIT!" Malas shouted.

"THIEF!" the mage shouted back. He turned sharply to a dark alley and run in there. Malas slid once again, righting herself to face the alley. With a flash, she had her daggers out and dashed after him. She could see a silhouette of a person so she pulled herself and began her threats.

"Give me your money or..." She snarled but quickly stopped herself. Who was in front of her wasn't the mage, but a frightened boy holding large, moldy bread in his arms. Thunderstruck, Malas put down her arms and stepped forward. The boy responded with a frightened wail and fell backward.

"Hold on, I'm not gonna hurt you." Malas said, her impassive face now showing signs of concern. The boy's face and shirt was smeared with grime and filth. His shorts and feet were no better. Malas recoiled at the sight of the large, stinky, looks-more-like-mold-than bread rolls. He stared at her with scared brown eyes. Her gaze fell upon his disheveled hair, it was hard to tell under the dust but she was guessing the color was brown too.

She put away her daggers and extended her arm.

"Here." She offered. The boy looked incredulous. Nevertheless he took it. Why? He couldn't tell you nor could Malas. Maybe it was the expression of Malas's eyes, a look of understanding of what his life was like. Malas kneeled and began brushing him with a mother's tenderness. He blushed with embarrassed pleasure. No one had ever patted him before. No one has ever fussed over him like her; she must be an angel (an angel with blonde hair and thief's clothes.)

"You should take a bath." She muttered, more to herself than him" And some decent clothes. And—"she eyed the bread with disgust—"decent food."

"But you never had that, have you?" She asked him softly. The boy shook his head. She sighed and took out a cloth wiping the perspiration from his head. But inexplicably she stood and ran away. The expression on the boy's face was like the face of a stricken deer. For the second time in his life, he had been abandoned.

"Whew!" the mage gave a relieved sigh as he reappeared. He put back the clip back into his robes. Thank heavens for slotted clips and Smokie cards! However, he was not thankful for the spectacle he had seen. That little thief had shattered the boy's heart! After baiting him with her goody-goody act, she's going to get up and leave? His angry thoughts were shattered too when the "goody-goody" thief returned with a bucket and a paper bag.

He hid behind a trash can and peered over its top so he could the happenings. She took out a sponge and dipped into the bucket. She proceeded to rub the boy's face.

A half hour later, Malas sighed with relief and pride. The boy was sparkling clean and had a fresh new cotton shirt that went below his knees. He touched at his freshly combed hair. It felt soft and springy. He shuffled his feet, feeling his new shoes grinding the ground. He grinned at Malas who grinned back. She plopped down on ground and frowned. She used every last zeny of her meager earnings to provide for this boy but it was worth it. She forced herself up and took the paper bag and towered over the boy. He looked frightened once again but she only thrust the bag to him. He looked inside and found an assortment of fruits and vegetables and...and... fresh bread.

"Well...take care now." Malas said softly. She was about to walk away when she felt something tugging her jacket. It was the boy, steadfastly a piece of her jacket. Malas tried to uncurl his fingers but he didn't want to let go. She kneeled down once again.

"I'm sorry; I can't take you with me." She whispered, hugging him.

"And why not?" said a loud booming voice.

Malas looked up to face the same magician from her chase.

"Because I'm a thief! What kind of life could I offer for this boy?" replied Malas as she rose.

"Then why did you help him? Why did you let his hopes up?" he challenged.

"Because I don't want anyone else to suffer like I did!" Malas shouted at the mage who looked taken aback at her outburst. She brushed away the tears that formed in her eyes.

_"What kind of life can I offer him? My name...I am...Malas"_

They stood in silence for a moment. The mage inched his arms upward and tenderly placed them on her shoulders. She slowly looked up to see the mage with tears in his eyes...

_Malas_

_As in bad luck_

_Malas_

_With a deep dark heart._

Malas once again was watching the populace. Same old spot, same ole stare. However it was evening, and cool darkness almost completely covered her. She watched again for an opening but averted her eyes if she saw one of _them._ It was against her personal policy to steal from acolytes, priests or —She gave a small smile—mages. She couldn't steal from the people who had helped her or her loved ones.

The mage and the boy had left now. On to a better life.

_"Make yourself a respectable novice and train hard under this mage, and when you're strong enough, come back and join my party, okay?" Malas told the boy._

_"Yes, ate" he shyly replied._

_To the mage, she whispered, "Take him far away and take good care of him. And if you're ever around Prontera, search for a Father Matthew."_

_"Of course but why?"_

_"Have the boy blessed. So he'll have the protection of the Lord forever."_

_"Huh?"_

_"Never mind. Just do it, kk?" She pleaded. He smiled weakly. How could he refuse this girl?_

_"So you say...Malas?" He took her hand in his and tenderly squeezed it, completely surprising Malas and making her blush. He grinned this time and made his earnest prediction._

_"We'll meet again."_

Funny, she never got to know his name. She rested her head, facing away from the city. There was a sharp pang in her heart, a longing for a life, a feeling. A little tear trickled down her cheek. She was reminded of him and the beautiful legend he told—The Cathedral of Angels Tears.

_Why? _he asked. Why would she ask him to go to Prontera? If only to know he's still alive and well. The man she'll love and cherish forever. The one who cared for her when no one else would. The only she'll ever want to give her all. The one she can't set her eyes on ever again.

_Matthew _


	2. Simbahan ng Luhang Anghel

I dedicate this chapter to Kalikasan. Your review encouraged me to continue on to another chapter. _Maraming Salamat!_

* * *

_**The Legend **_

_**of**_

_**The Cathedral of Angels Tears**_

_Long, long ago... during the time of the Sacred Wars, a young man arose amidst the fighting. He was Destiny's chosen and God's beloved. He was no ordinary man, there was an aura of holiness surrounding him and his face was of the sweetest and comeliest kind. One day, he was told to go out to world for the Lord will give a message that will change the world._

_The young man did so and went far and wide. Everywhere he went, he helped everybody who needed help. He cured the sick, comforted the sad, drove back evil. These he did unwittingly, he did not consider himself special; he was doing only what he could. The people however saw a man shining with the purest light. Twas he who would save the world from evil?_

_His renown spread throughout Rune-Midgard until it reached the ears of one Mystical Assasin. He heard of the young man and decided his powers would cause an imbalance in the world. In reality, he wanted the holy powers for himself._

_The man continued on until one day he had reached wild fields where it had not rained for a long, long time. Through sorcery the Mystical Assasin had found out where he was and followed him there._

_There was an ancient law back then._ (And still true today.)_Now, no one must spill the blood of the innocent or God-fearing or else the tides will turn against the murderer and a horrendous calamity shall befall him. _

_The Mystical Assasin knew this and with sacred powers bestowed upon the boy, no doubt, the effect of the law will be greater and immediate. But he was the _**Mystical Assasin**_; he already considered what would happen and prepared for it. Whilst the young man prayed, the Mystical Assasin snuck behind and...STRUCK him...with his enchanted katar._

_The young man fell but no blood was spilled. He laid there, unscathed, not a mark on his body. It was if he was sleeping soundly. But he was dead, the Mystical Assasin held in the palm of his hand a floating jewel, shining brighter than the sun. It was the divine powers of the boy, gathered and bound. He covered his eyes from the brilliance of the jewel but he was pleased._

_But retribution came nonetheless. A small, pink creature fell from the sky._ (Yes, a Poring!) _It bounced toward the Mystical Assasin and swallowed the jewel. It seemed to shine like the young man before. _(Yes, yes—it became a Holy Poring. Do you guys want to finish the story or not? I thought so)

_He was shocked but none more so when from out of nowhere, another man with a sword came running along the fields. He gave a happy_ (very, very goofy one, too.) _smile when he saw the monster. He raised his sword, and before the Mystical Assasin could stop him, struck down the creature. He looked around for the droppings of the monster but found none. His bewilderment turned to fright when he saw his sword began to change a larger, hideous black sword. He fell down and screamed as if in pain. Covered in inexplicable wounds and blood, the man struggled to stand,howled and ran like a madman._

_The Mystical Assasin disappeared. Maybe he followed the man. Perhaps he gave up and went for another bounty. The young man's body lay there, still looking asleep. _(Awwwww. Yes, yes I know but I'm getting near the ending.)

_A light came down on him and a young girl appeared by his side. She tried to wake him up. She lifted his head and pleaded to him. It was time to go home. But it was useless. Along with his powers, the Assasin had taken his soul. The angel was stunned with realization; she laid her head on his shoulder, tears trickling down her cheeks._

_She had loved him. She watched him day after day, growing to love him. Now, when she thought they'd be together forever, they took his soul. She cried and her brothers and sisters came. They heard her anguish and saw the young man. The sky grew dark as they began to cry too. Rain came down hard as it refreshed the thirsty land. It washed over them, the angel and the young man. The angels' tears gave the earth new life._

_A holy warrior, who was a few days behind following the destined boy, arrived to see the angel and hear their cries. He stood silent, shock and guilt filling him for not being able to prevent the young man's senseless death . When the rain had cleared, the holy warrior gazed in wonder; instead of yellow he saw green. And in the place of the young man's body, a tiny jewel. He picked it up and saw it was filled with liquid._

_It must be, the first tear shed. And in his last prayer, he had been asking for rebirth of the earth. _

_The sun shone on the fields, where plants and trees had grown again. The holy warrior came scrambling up a large hill, an iron staff with a giant cross on top, in his hand. He smiled and took a deep breath of fresh air. He gazed upon the new city that was being built._

"'That is where the city is being built. And here'"— _He looked around and pierced the ground with his staff. _

"'is where I shall build the cathedral!'"

_He placed the jewel inside the cathedral that he built and guarded it all his life. He trained those who would take his place and look after the chapel. So a long line of priests and priestesses guarded the legend and strove to emulate the destined one. They welcomed all who were weary in body and spirit. They were sworn to live a life of peace but should evil emerge, they should use the holy powers bestowed to overcome evil. The holy warrior never wanted the legend to be forgotten..._

He paused as he closed the book.

"_That is why...he named the cathedral, "The Cathedral of Angels Tears."_

Matthew looked around only to see his kids all asleep. He shook his head and sighed affably patting each sleepy head good night. He halted to see he made a mistake. A little one is still awake. She sat up in her wooden bed, her eyes shining as she looked up at him.

"Did you like the story?" He asked as he sat down beside her. She nodded ardently. He grinned and tousled her blond head.

"Good. Sleep tight now."

He tucked her in and patted her head. His crimson robe flew behind him as he headed through the door. She clutched the sheets tighter her face. She hoped he won't see her pink face but she had to get his attention.

"Um..."

He stopped in mid-stride.

"Yes?"

"Good night, Father Matthew."

He smiled tenderly as he blew out the candle.

"Good night, Malachuchi."

* * *

Malas was again in her usual spot. She leaned back and let innumerable people pass her gaze. Strangely, a certain feeling told her to forgo her usual attire so she was wearing a breezy cotton shirt. It was evening; it was strange why she would want to dress like that. Her wandering thoughts paused as she spotted a band of travelers stopping from across the street. They seemed to be checking out a stall. They'll be there for awhile. She assessed them one by one.

A handsome blond acolyte on the front. Hands off, not touching. Blond girl with shaggy hair and a Poring. No weapons, no money. Easy pickin but nothing to pick out of. Merchant, brown hair covering one eye. Looks distracted and loaded too but the stuff's too heavy and don't have the time. Swordie, female. Looks cool and tough, stay away from her. Blue-haired and long brown haired novices bringing up the rear. Both look packed up. No weapons. Bingo.

Having picked her target she decided on her approach. Quick steal won't work here. She needed to be nice and slow. She pushed people aside as she casually walked over to their side. Just as she was gonna reach for the brown haired's backpack, they began moving.

_Damn. _But it was a minor setback. She strolled with them, feigning the air of a tourist. Her dagger in her hand, she inched it towards the novice's backpack...

"Hey!"

A hand had seized Malas' wayward arm. Panic surged through her body. A look confirmed it. The shaggy blond had caught her! How could she...Malas was sure she wasn't there before.

"Thief!" she accused Malas.

"Nice work, Shari." The swordsgirl came up to them. Her hair reached to her waist and was few shades closer to being white. She gave them both an appraising look. "After all, takes one to know one."

"Shut up, royal pain," Shari mumbled. The Swordie seized the other arm of Malas and pulled it up. Malas gave a cry of pain. The people gave no notice except for a few who were mildly interested.

"It's Royale," she said coldly. "Are you all right, D? Luna?"

Malas could now distinguish that the brown haired one was actually a girl. She could've sworn it was a boy wearing the pants and clothes. The blue haired one was definitely a girl, evident by her clothes. Royale pulled her a little higher Malas bit through the pain.

"I'm okay, Royale." answered Luna, the blue haired girl. "I'm not sure about D..."

"D!" The blonde acolyte came running towards her. The merchant tried to follow as fast as possible.

As he began fussing over the girl, Malas felt a twinge of odd recognition. Royale gripped tighter, making her squirm.

"Now, what's this about?" demanded the acolyte.

"Well, this thief..." began Shari but she went unnoticed because he was now staring at the girl. Recognition flashed on his face. He smiled with sincere pleasure.

"Malachuchi! It's you! What're you doing here?"

Royale's confident voice faltered. "You know each other?"

"No! My—name —is –Malas!" she screamed, attempting to kick Royale with each word.

"But you're Malachuchi! Don't you remember me? Besides why are you here? Has Father Matthew sent you here? How is everything back there? How is Father Matthew?" he asked, curiosity making him forget to slow down.

"NO!" She managed to kick Royale hard in stomach, making her drop Malas. She darted as fast as she could towards the direction where they came from. It was too much seeing him again. He'd always been kind to her but...

Angel...Black Angel Wings had been an acolyte under Fr. Matthew. Angel. Angels' tears. Legend of the Cathedral. Everything reminded her about Matthew. She—she can't stand to remember what she'd lost!

"Angel..." D moved closer to the acolyte. Angel looked at her concerned eyes. "Is something wrong?"

"Yeah, Angel, some of your friends are whacked!" commented Shari.

"Like you?" Royale retorted.

"You trying to pick a fight, huh, royal pain!" As the two squabbled, Angel took the chance to whisper to D, "I'm afraid so, D."

Malas gasped for breath. She had been running for half an hour and ended up in another dark alley. If she could run away from her troubles. But she already tried that, didn't she? She looked up into the dark, starry night. At least she was safe for now.

Malas abruptly felt a hand clamp down on her mouth, muffling her screams. She was heaved in closer to her attacker's body. She struggled; kicking like she did to Royale but cold steel to her neck suddenly changed her mind.

"You gave me a hard time tracking you_. Thief_..." A male voice whispered frostily.

"And now that I got you..." The cold point lightly traced the curve of her neck. Malas muffled screams grew stronger, more desperate. "You'll get exactly what you deserve."

* * *

Whew! To think this was supposed to be a one shot. 


	3. Zyriel, Anghel sa Lupa

**Author's note**: A big part of this story is now possible thanks to a_ngelstarhikaru_! Thank you for suggesting so many names. Whew! I was stuck on the names of Zyirael and Eviaren but I finally chosen Zyirael because it sounds smoother. I kind of changed the spelling, hope you don't mind, because it reminded of something which I'll incorporate in my story. Again thanks to _angelstarhikaru_! I didn't want to waste Eviaren, though, and gave it to another character.

About Malas...Actually I didn't know that! Thanks for bringing up that bit of information, it was cool. I love word stuff. It directly sparked a conversation between the thief and the mage. Read on about it!

Well, I intentionally named her Malas because in the Tagalog dialect it translates to "unlucky" or "ominous." Malas ain't her real name.

Wow! That's the longest I've ever done. Well a long A/N deserves a lengthy chapter. You have been warned! Read on!

* * *

**Zyriel, Fallen Angel **

"_So this is the end."_

She began to sob. She didn't want to die! She would pass away, and no one would never know or care what happen. Matthew... would never find her. And...the young boy...and that Mage...she never even got to know their names.

"_Lord God—anybody!—please help me!"_ she silently pleaded.

The cold point had finished its mockery and left her neck. The girl shut her eyes and waited for the cold plunge of the knife.

And waited...

And waited...

Then..._smooch!_

A soft, warm object had quickly planted itself to Malas's cold cheek. Her attacker had abruptly released her so Malas stumbled forward but managed to stand up. She turned around and stared at what she saw.

It was her mage.

Alone.

He was waving at her, like it was the most natural thing to do. His other hand was holding a steel wand upside-down placing the pointed end up.

"You..." Malas squeaked with mixed emotions.

"Hi. It's been a while, ne, Malachuchi? I've wanted to surprise you, maybe I did too mu—hey!" The mage, who had been scratching his head and looking rueful, now looked worried as Malas swayed back and forth.

It had been an overwhelming day. She had been caught, bombarded with old memories, and mock threatened with her life. Emotions flooded her and she felt disconcerted. Confused, she did the only thing she was capable of doing.

She fainted.

**

* * *

**

_A little girl was sitting on a branch of a tree. Her blond hair, divided into two by ribbons, was lightly swaying in the wind. She was turned the pages of a small thick book and admiring the intricate pictures. There were words too but she only how to read a little. Anyway, it didn't matter because she knew the story by heart. As she looked at one particular picture, her arm reached for an apple. Someone called her name. Startled, she almost fell from the tree but she grasped the branch just in time. She lifted her head, gasping._

"_There you are." _

_She peered below. A man, who looked about in his late twenties, shaded his eyes and smiled at her. He had cropped white hair and wore a crimson robe, which was left open at the chest. A rosary shone from his neck. _

_Crying with glee, she jumped from her perch towards him. The priest, stunned, only had time to hold out his arms before the little girl crashed on him. The impact left him sprawled on the ground, but thankfully (at least to him) the girl was unhurt. _

"_Oooof! You're getting heavier." She scrambled off him as he struggled to sit up. "I don't mind you tackling me but could you at least give me a warning? Please?" The girl giggled and began going through the book again. _

"_So that's where my book went! I've been wondering if a thief took it." He peeked over her shoulder. The page was turned to a picture of a rugged man standing on a hill. His left arm was holding a staff with a grand cross, his right was stretched out to what looked like a small city. _

"_That's the part where the holy warrior planned to have the cathedral built." The priest looked thoughtful. "You really like stories, Mala. That's so sweet!" _

_Malachuchi pulled the book closer to her face. She tried to hide her color, now resembling a rose. It wouldn't have done her any good because he was behind her. Fortunately at that particular moment the priest had decided to lie down. He plucked a piece of grass and stuck it between his teeth. _

_Mala, as she liked to be called by the priest, was now turning the pages to show him her favorite picture. She crawled to his side and set the book in front of his face. The priest lazily stared at the picture. A young woman was caressing the limp body of a young man. He slightly frowned at the picture. It was sad but no doubt the artist put a lot of work to making it beautiful. The background was dark blue and yellow illuminated the characters. In the background, miniature people were hovering behind the couple. All of them were crying. The priest gave a sad sigh. _

"_Maybe the angel was being a little selfish don't you think? I mean, the world lost a holy messenger and all she could think about was she'd have him all to herself. Makes you wonder if that's really true..." he trailed off. _

_"Does that mean...this legend is false?" She hugged the book close to her. The priest, alarmed at what he just said. crouched her beside and instead of answering her question, pointed. Curious, Malachuchi followed the direction of the arm. It pointed towards a city, which looked small because they were from some distance. _

"_Mala, can you tell me what that is?" _

"_That's __Prontera City, Capital of Rune-Midgard" She remembered from a lesson he taught. _

"_Right and what's that over there?" Pointing to the small chapel near them. _

"_It's our cathedral..." _

"_Uh-huh. And where are we and the cathedral?" _

"_On a large hill..." The priest twirled his arms as comprehension dawned on Mala. _

"_It's the legend! The Prontera is the city built and our church is the Cathedral!" she shouted. _

"_You've got it! How can it be not true if the evidence is already here?" The priest cupped his chin and nodded. The legend was undoubtedly true; Matthew was only questioning whether the scribes who wrote down history were mixing up too much drama with the facts. _

"_Father! That means the jewel is inside the chapel! Come on!" Mala attempted to pull Fr. Matthew towards the Chapel. _

"_Whoa! I'm sorry, Malachuchi." He pulled her back and placed his hands on her shoulder. He bended down so they faced each other. _

"_The jewel is there but it's a sacred object. Only the high priest and acolytes of the Cathedral could see, much less touch it. You could search the whole church—and it's really a small church—and still you could never find it." _

_Malachuchi was really disappointed. A tear actually trickled down her cheek but she was surprised to feel Fr. Matthew's hand wiping it away. _

"_Mala...Don't cry. When you've grown a bit older then you could train to become an Acolyte. You have my promise that I'll train you to be the best Acolyte you could be. And then you could finally see the it. Who knows? You might even become High Priestess." _

_He slightly tilted his head at her and smiled. She was pacified, only to notice that Matthew's hand had a slight wound. _

"_Oh no!" _

"_Eh?" He was puzzled. Then looked a t his hand. "Oh, it's only a scratch. I could easily heal my-" _

_But Malachuchi was already rubbing powdered red herb onto his hand then wrapping it with a roll of bandage she procured from her pocket. Matthew's expression was one of admiration then of laughter. _

"_Yes, Malachuchi, you'd make a good acolyte." _

_If Mala had been rosy before she was as red as Patoochi now. She was saved from her embarrassment when Fr. Matthew turned to find a person calling him. _

"_Father Matthew!" A teen-aged acolyte with messy dark grey hair and sharp eyes was standing a few feet from them. Mala hid behind Matthew's legs. She had always been scared of Brother Harsch. _

"_Father...another has been found." He started solemnly but changed his voice to a higher pitch one. "And have you forgotten your responsibilities, sir? You have to: manage a service, meet the Pope, fix lunch for the children, wage war against world hunger, and bring about world peace..." _

_Fr. Matthew twitched at every phrase, agitated._ "_Okay, okay! Just stop it! Where are the other acolytes? The chapel? Good. Tell them to start lunch. I'll handle world peace and hunger after I meet the Pope." Fr. Matthew marched resolutely before the acolyte stopped to whisper something. Mala heard it anyway. _

"_Father, the new one looks traumatized too." Harsch glanced over at Malachuchi. Mala gripped the book tightly _

"_Right. I'll deal with it personally." _

_The little girl silently followed after them. _

_Dejection _

_Guilt _

_Relief _

_Happiness _

Malas groaned. Bright sunlight spilling through her window hurt her eyes. She turned over to the other side. It had to be mid-morning.

"Malachuchi," a voice coaxed.

"Uh…" A dream. It was that dream. No. It had been buried memory masquerading as a dream. Then there was another dream...no...a nightmare. Good Lord of Gods, her head ached. Still, the voice was wonderfully soft.

"Malachuchi." He was trying to wake her up gently but she stubbornly wanted to sleep. "Come on. Mala."

Mala. That name rang a bell. Maybe it wasn't a dream. Maybe Matthew was with her. Malas whispered, "Ma—"

She opened her eyes, half expecting the priest. Instead her eyes set upon the magician.

She had meant to say Matthew but it came out as: "Mage!"

The magician was standing over her. His thick dark hair was disheveled and his face was with etched with worry. His cape lay rumpled on the floor so he was only wearing a black shirt and long pants. He stayed up all night taking care of her, appearing very much worn with out care. Malas would've found this very thoughtful if she wasn't seething with indignation. Apparently the memory of last evening was still fresh on her mind.

"Hey." He said softly. "I'm glad you're awake, Malachuchi."

At the mention of the name, Malas doubled with anger and punched him in the stomach. The mage recoiled, grasping his stomach. His face was contorted with pain but he managed to open an eye.

"Ouch! Okay...okay...I deserved that. I'm sorry. I thought it'd be a joke..." He finally stopped flinching and composed himself. He sighed. The lady deserved a proper apology for his stupidity.

"Malachuchi..." he began. But at the sound of the name, her eyes shot daggers at him. She threw away the white covers. She didn't notice that her legs were bare and faced the Mage, eye to eye. As she eyed him crossly, she backhanded him.

The Mage was stunned but promptly recovered.

"What was that about? I was just trying to apologize!"

"The name's Malas! Jerk!" the thief spat.

"And mine is—!" But Malas didn't try to hear him out. She huffed towards the door. The mage was fuming but noticed that she was going to slip on his cape.

"Hey! Watch out!" He lunged to grab Malas but both lost their balance and fell on the floor.

There was a knock and the door opened. A certain somebody poked his head of silvery hair in and, from what could be seen of his clothing, the certain somebody was a hunter.

"Zyriel, I just wanna...oh?" He blinked at the scene before him. Malas was on top of the mage (whose name we now have, Zyriel!), looking very messy. Zyriel, who was still red from her slap, was untidy as well. The scattered appearance of the thief's shoes and pants plus the mage's rumpled cape did not help. In fact, it maintained the idea like they had been doing something wild.

"Oh ho ho...I seem to be disturbing something." The hunter narrowed his eyes and grinned knowingly. Malas looked clueless while Zyriel was turning redder by the second. "I'll just come back later..."

"Gago! We're not doing anything!" Zyriel fervently denied, though his ears seemed to smoke.

"Right." He drawled, clearly disbelieving the mage. "If you're done, we'll be having brunch downstairs. But don't worry, if you want, I'll tell them you two are busy." He winked.

"NO!"

"All right! All right. Don't get so defensive." The hunter addressed Malas this time. "Eviaren's waiting for you." He closed the door and went down humming.

Curiosity got the better of Malas's anger.

"Who's Eviaren?"

"I think you should know. He was the little boy you saved."

"He's here!" Malas face bent dangerously close to Zyriel's.

"Yes..." he stuttered. She was still on top of him. Chest heaving, Zyriel was sure that the heat he felt wasn't coming from the desert sun.

"I've got to see to him." She immediately started for the door only to slip again on the cape, right into his arms.

The mage shifted so that he'd be sitting while he held the girl securely. She looked up to his intelligent, grey eyes watching her intently. _What?_ She felt a strange new emotion that was both pleasurable and uncomfortable.

"They'll be plenty of time to see him but first we have to talk."

"Malachuchi..." Zyriel felt her flinch at the name. "Why do you react that way to your name?"

"It's not my name," she answered without conviction.

"Oh?"

"Yes! Why do you call me that! Malas is my name!" She was gaining back her prickly personality. He moaned quietly. Don't go there.

"I overheard everything last night when we came back to Morroc. The acolyte said your name was Malachuchi. I wanted to help you; I was forcing myself through the crowd when you escaped them. I had hard time trying to find you."

Aww, that was so sweet…"So that gives you a reason to scare me to death?"

"I know... I know it was a really stupid idea. Actually it was that Gago's idea but the reason why I did that is because you looked so dejected. It's was supposed to be a joke but I guess went too far." He hung his head sorrowfully, his bushy hair falling messily around him. Malas admitted to herself that he did look quite adorable.

Her anger subsided. Just a_ little. _

"Gago? Isn't that ancient dialect word meaning..."

"Yeah. Sometimes my friend totally acts that way. But he's really a generous guy once you get to know him. He was the one who sent his falcon to find you." Malas felt really confused but nodded just the same.

"Anyway, why would you want to give everyone an impression that you're lazy? Besides Malachuchi sounds cuter."

"Excuse me?" Malas was now clearly affronted.

"As I recall, Malas means lazy in the ancient Malay language. Some people still learn this stuff you know."

"Yes, I know," she snapped. "My name** is** based from a dialect but means an entirely different thing." She sharply turned her head away from him.

"Sorry, couldn't help it. Would you kindly tell me what it means then?"

Malas hesitated. When she didn't reply, he rhythmically stroked her hair. He didn't tell her that he knew different dialects and what Malas could mean. But he wanted the explanation to come from her. Maybe if he knew why, he could help her.

"_Good Odin, why do I worry so much about her?" _

"All my life, I've been unlucky. Please, just call me Malas." Why is it when she cries, it only comes down as one trickle?

Pain. It pained her to say that. He wished that he could take away all the pain she felt. There was so much in his heart already, what's a little more?

"I will. But only—" He reached for her hand. "—if you promise me to tell me the reason soon."

"I promise."

Minutes passed as they stayed there unmoving, Malas against Zyriel. While Mala felt content just to stay by a newfound friend, Zyriel was now blushing deeper shades of red. Full awareness of the situation had finally struck him. They were in a room alone; he was holding her close with a cotton shirt the only thing covering her. Malas had a dazed look in her eyes as she craned herself to face him.

"_Oh no, upper bodies touching again. Getting too hot." _He thought, alarm registering in his brain. _"Think of something to say, quick!" _

"Uh, Malas? I believe we were never properly introduced." _What! Why am I choosing such a lame topic!_ "I'm Zyriel."

_Zyriel._ Where had she heard that before? Like a hero from a legend. She was too faint to recall right now. Still, she was curious enough to ask:

"Uhm...What does it mean?"

"Hmm...Nothing I suppose. I mean my parents just named me, Zyriel." _That much was true. _

"Zyriel?" she asked hoarsely.

Heart pounding, he stuttered, "Y-yes?"

"I'm hungry."

Toink!

* * *

"Ate!" 

A short boy sitting on the inn's table looked up with pleasure. He had soft brown hair, and a cotton shirt that was way too big for him. But now it was tucked in his pants. A breastplate covered his chest and a knife from his belt. He still wore the shoes that she bought for him though it was worn out.

"I can't believe it's you! You look so handsome now!" Malas squeaked with absolute happiness. Zyriel watched behind her. It was nice seeing her this way. She looked so happy just being with the kid. He resigned himself and held out a chair for the lady. Eviaren held Malas's hand and sat her down. It was when the mage sat down too that the thief checked her tablemates. A benevolent looking knight raised his glass at her. The mischievous hunter gave a thumb's up. Last, a tired Alchemist was sleeping on the table.

"Hey...you guys took long enough." The hunter winked suggestively.

"Gago. Shut up." Zyriel coughed and gestured to guys at the table. "Malas. I'd like you to meet my party members."

"Lord Frey." (The Knight grinned.)

"Sala." (The hunter obviously gave the alchemist a kick because he started from his nap.)

"And Gago." (The hunter gave his most charming smile.)

"Gago?" Malas asked, bemused.

"Actually my name is Gareth Gona. My no-good friends call me Gago," he told her in a woe-begone voice. "But while we're in the subject of names—"Gago glowered at Sala who was now snickering. "Sala here is short for Salamangka. Feel free to call him Sally."

Sala, who was longer laughing, jumped up brandishing his fists. Gago was raring to fight too, when the Knight roughly grabbed their collars and lifted them up.

"Siya, siya. If you want to fight, fine. But not in front of a lady." Frey cheerfully reprimanded them. The men looked away from each other and avoided Malas's eyes. Satisfied, he put them down and sat back to his own seat. It was only when Zyriel coughed loudly that Malas realized that she'd been staring at the Knight.

"Let's order something, na." Frey amiably said, peering at the old, frayed menu.

"What do you want, Eviaren?"

"Bread." He quickly replied, eying the fresh bread on the table.

"Eviaren," Zyriel said, "You've wanted to eat nothing but bread since we started our journey. As your mentor, I will not let eat such an unbalanced diet. Here." He placed an apple in front of the novice. "You will eat this apple."

"Sure!" He took the apple and sliced it into pieces. Which he put on a piece of bread and chomped on. Zyriel slapped his forehead.

"Don't react like it's something bad. Eviaren, let me try some." Malas took an apple slice and placed it on her bread. She readily chewed and swallowed. She gave Eviaren a knowing smile, which he promptly returned. The hunter quizzically looked at Zyriel who replied with a shrug.

This was the first time in nearly two years that our thief ate at a table. Everyone was satisfied with the meal. (Especially Gago whose belch was heard all over the inn.)

Relaxed, Malas asked: "So...why did you come over here to Morroc?".

The guys, who had been rowdily drinking (ale), fell silent. Gareth murmured something disdainfully to his glass which sounded suspiciously like "girls!" Malas wasn't sure who kicked him, but the hunter winced, as the men beside him, Frey and Sala, were giving their hurried explanations.

"We wanted to set for a brand, new adventure! Danger, desert monsters and the like!" Frey answered, a little too readily.

"Yes, yes! I've also been meaning to find new exotic potions," Sala agreed.

"Oh yes. It would be such a joy," Gareth dryly added. He was still rubbing his shins. Both had kicked him.

Malas turned for Zyriel's explanation but he just sipped his ale quietly.

"_Well, they are his party mates, Zyriel would have to join their exploits. Of course Eviaren would follow his teacher anywhere.'' _Malas deduced.

"Well, thank you for the meal. I never knew that Morroc had nice inns." Malas rose to leave. "Well, I never got around much," she added truthfully.

At a glance from Zyriel, Sala stopped her with a question. "How long had you lived in this city?"

"A couple of years. Why?"

Zyriel's friends looked at each other then at Zyriel. The mage finished his glass and set it down. A wordless message was being passed around. The guys nodded in unison while Malas and the novice watched in wonder. The knight, alchemist and hunter rose and marched towards Malas. Sala and Gareth took her arms while Frey carried her feet. Together they carried her outside.

"What the!"

"You're coming with us," Frey declared, merriment lacing his words.

"Don't worry. We just want you to truly enjoy yourself. You haven't lived until you've gone sight seeing around Morroc!" Sala exclaimed.

"Yeah. Us being your lovely guides," Gareth smirked.

Malas was too taken aback to argue.

Eviaren run after them, leaving Zyriel alone at the table and pay the bill.

"_You guys..."_ He smiled wryly. _"Thanks." _"Oi! Wait up!"

* * *

L.C.: This chapter might have been a bit boring but I promise more action to the next chapter... 

Zyriel :( pointing an accusing finger) Oi! What are you doing here? What happen to your personal credo not to do this kind of dialogue, end of chapter stuff? You told me that you'd take this writing thing seriously!

L.C. :( sighs) I know but I had to. We have special guest star appearance to introduce the next chapter.

Zyriel: Fine. (Arms crossing) Where's this dude?

(An old man with wild white hair and tattered wizard's clothing steps in. He has an insane look in his eyes)

Zyriel: (mouth hangs open) You brought Zephyrus! ZEPHYRUS! Why? He's insane for crying out loud!

Zephyrus: (laughing insanely) Puray time is ovah! Elshiiiii... (Play time is over! L.C.!) LORD...OF...

Zyriel: (Eyes widening in fright) Good Frey's sister ! (Grabs L.C. and runs madly) Come on, we still need you to finish the story!

Zephyrus looks around to check if they're gone. Satisfied, he now speaks in a suave, sane voice...

"Next Chapter, there'll be revelations and confessions and... (pulls out a candy cane and licks it) something sweet from **Lutie**. Nyahah!"

"Everything is for the sake of truth! Don't you agree? Hahahaha! Candy..."


	4. Parokya ni Eddga

Paumanhin, gome and sorry/swt. On the other hand Ilocos was a blast. Too bad, I didn't win. Ah yes, I still didn't get to watch the final episodes of Ragna! I wanted to see my favorites!

To rundaria: No, unfortunately, that wasn't Zephyrus. It would've been cool though. He's my favorite character in the whole anime!

Zyriel: In_sane..._

L.C :(Sharply) Yeah? Wouldn't you feel bad if you accidentally killed your family with your powers?

(Little does anyone realize that my comment hits a deep chord in the mage.)

Zyriel: He's still insane!

L.C: Oh, and I'm sure _you're_ not! What an insensitive guy! I wouldn't be surprised if Mala didn't give you her time of day! (Starts of verbal insults.)

(Center stage, Gareth appears holding a piece of paper.) Uhm...hi, I'm Gareth Gona. Since L.C. is kinda busy right now (Yeah? Well, Charlie can cast better spells than you, and he's a Poring! ... You call that an insult!) I'm going to finish the intro. But before that, I'd like to shout out to Annika Lee. Your songfics rock! I wish my love life would have a happy ending. sniff Ahem!

"**Thank you, Kalikasan, angelstarhikaru **(I know you guys are really busy still I wish...) **Skye Milahak, Misayo, rundaria and Annika Lee. And to the anonymous reviewer, Winter Ultima, who seriously scared me. And Gwaihir the Windlord, who didn't review in this story but whom I'm pretty sure is reading. And all the silent readers...drop a line, why don't ya?"** Done. Wait there's a P.S. **"Make Gareth read this last line." **Heh, sure, why not.

(Gareth throws up his hands and shouts out) **Everyone join me for Chapter Four! Isa akong unggoy!** What? Why are you two laughing?

**CROSSING THE DESERT SAND**

_Something warm scraped her cheek. She knew it was sand; she opened her eyes, finding herself lying in the desert. Her legs ached and her mouth was dry. While the sand was nice and warm, the sun was doing it's best to fry her. Her clothes offered little protection: a simple sleeveless white tank top paired shorts that reached to her knees: novice's clothes without the backpack. Unused to the heat, she gasped and struggled on her arms. _

"_Look what we got here." Something big had moved in and mercifully blocked out the sun._

_Mala choked on the sand it set off and looked up._

_A man riding a pecopeco. Since his back was toward the sun, his features were shaded. However Mala knew this person was a knight. Her eyes hurt from the glinting of his helm. Other pecopecos came trotting and she was surrounded from all sides._

"_Struck gold have we?" A brusque voice asked the first one. He leered at the slender golden haired girl. The knight slipped and landed by Mala, setting off clouds of sand. Coughing, she was abruptly pulled by her arm._

"_She's still breathing. Won't do if she was dead." The knight's eyes roamed over her body. A nice, well-defined figure, quite young. Add that to her pretty face and shining mane, and indeed they have "struck gold." While his companions assessed what would be better: to keep her or sell her as a slave, the girl's head lolled back. She shut her eyes, disliking either prospect that awaited her but knew there was no way a weak, dehydrated girl like her could fight off a gang of knights._

_The dishonorable discussion had turned into dastardly dispute; the knights almost at arms deciding what they should do. The leader covering his ears, barked order at his men._

"_Why can't you settle such a simple matter!"_

"_Boss, I heard the price of slaves have shot up. We'll get a whole lot of zeny especially if we sell her to the underground market."_

_The boss huffed. Truth is he felt sorry for the girl but they needed the money more than anything else. There was nothing else they could part with. _

"_Fine. Let's give her some water then we'll—" He broke off. The knights fell uneasily silent. The pecopecos fidgeted, as if they knew something ominous coming on. At first Mala heard nothing then a distant thumping, like wind being blown over the sand._

_A sandstorm! Through the slit of her eyes she saw the sandstorm spring up nearby them. The gust tumbled towards them. Mala knew there was something different abut this sandstorm. She could make something moving within._

_WHACK!_

_A foot sailed through the air, hitting the face of Mala's captor, releasing the girl. A thief with outrageously red spiky hair smirked over the fallen knight. His companions followed, striking the other knights. They assailed_ _like their leader, leaping from their ruse and knocking the stunned knights off their rides. Mala felt herself being hoisted and tossed atop of a peco. With a loud "Hiyah!" they were off, leaving the pecoless knights in the desert. _

_Waking up, she was riding a pecopeco, her back against someone. His gloved hands were above her shoulders, holding the reins. Her first thoughts were that she was captured by knights but then she remembered. Tilting her head, it was a spiky-haired guy wearing goggles on his forehead._

"_T-thank you." She stammered because of her dried throat._

"_Don't thank me." His eyes totally focused ahead. "Don't expect that I'll take care of you or anything."_

"_You have chosen a harsh path, kid, running away from everything you once known." His expression never changed as he answered the unvoiced question. "Yes, I know. Your expression says it all. This world is hard and unjust; you have to make your own life, you gotta depend on yourself and only yourself."_

_Mala watched as they crossed over a large dune, a city loomed nearer as they trotted on._

"_Morroc, city of the desert. The people reflect the times and this city: not all are generous, not all are willing to help." To Mala, the thief rather looked sad when he said that. "Unless, girl, you are strong enough to search."_

_They dropped off Mala near the city entrance. Mala stared up the city walls, unsure and more than a little unafraid. But just before the thieves left..._

"_Here, catch." He tossed something to Mala. And he turned to the others. "Okay, let's go."_

_Mala looked down. A flask? She opened it and guzzled the water. Finished, she noticed a label on the side. **"Courtesy of the Thieves Guild." **Clutching onto the flask, she gazed upon the city that was to be her home._

"_Time to begin my new life." _

_And with a new life, a new name.

* * *

_

"_Did she pass? Did she pass?" The thief peered over the moderator's shoulder. The moderator of the thief's test gave him a disgusted look but finally checked at the clipboard._

"_Mushrooms...Uh-huh...according to the report brought by his owl...YES! Now be quiet. She'll be coming here for confirmation and uniform."_

_The spiky haired thief cheered while his companion, an alchemist with gravity-defying black hair, petted his owl._

"_Better give her two uniforms," Vermilion ordered. The moderator shot him an annoyed look but didn't dare contradict. Vermilion was higher in rank. He slinked away to carry out the request._

"_I don't understand you, Vermilion. You act as if you don't care about the girl but you'd go so far that you would rig an exam to ensure she passes." The alchemist calmly stated as he looked over Damaso, his owl._ "_Always watching her but never revealing yourself. Why?" _

_Vermilion smirked at fellow guild member and best friend, Alderin. He pulled at his collar, revealing a minute symbol. He placed two fingers on it. Vermilion might have many marks on his body, tributes from many battles, but he was fond of this one. It was not from any physical fight but a personal one. A tattoo of a small tear with angel wings on a cross surrounded by light. The insignia of the Cathedral of Angel's Tears. _

"_Know what, Alderin? You're right," Vermilion's smirk turned into a mysterious grin. "You'd never understand."_

Gareth had trouble wiping the tears off his eyes. They ambled along the road and Malas was beside the hunter, listening to him. Malas wore an inexpressive countenance as Gareth fought his laughter as he tried to tell what he found so funny.

"Hahahaha...okay... I was snaring in the forests one day when this novice came up to me and moaned that he hadn't had a bite in three days. So I said 'Aww, is that so?' then I released the wolf I captured from its cage, and it BIT HIM!"

Gareth doubled up with laughter. Sala, however, rolled his eyes and scoffed at him. "Honestly, that's the corniest joke ever. Let's go, Malas." The alchemist took her hand and pulled her towards Frey who was leading the way.

The hunter stopped laughing and tilted his head. "Joke? Huh? But that wasn't a joke."

Zyriel was some distance away, watching how Malas interacted with his friends. She was kind of stand-offish, just politely listening to whatever Frey and Sala were saying. Right now, they were discussing over a merchant vending hats. Sala was trying to convince the knight to give up his helm.

"Sorry, Sala, my helm is customized. I wouldn't give it up for all the Bongun hats in the world." Lord Frey declared, smiling kindly. Said helm is magical but was left behind in the inn.

Sala pouted but got another hat. This time he put it on Malas. It was similar to the Bongun hat only it was red instead of blue. Sala quickly put the Bongun hat on Frey then pulled him to stand beside Malas. He stood back to admire the effect.

"You two look so cute! Munak and Bongun! Hey, let's ask Zyriel to buy—" Gareth slung his arm around Sala and muttered vehemently, "Ah, Sally, you seem forgetting something." He jerked his thumb over to Zyriel, who was watching the hat-wearing duo. Frey was laughing and put the hat away while Malas gave the faintest hint of a smile.

The mage hung his head, staring intently at his feet. However, he couldn't keep his eyes away from the thief, so he peered up. She was placing back the hat when the little boy came running up to her. She smiled and kneeled down. Eviaren, eager to show her something, clapped his hands together and opened it. A little flame danced then dwindled. She positively beamed at him and suffocated the poor boy. If only he was in Eviaren's position—then the heat shot up straight to his face.

"Yo!" A heavy hand slapped Zyriel out of his reverie.

"Frey..." he murmured. How did he get here so fast?

"A pretty picture, aren't they," Frey said. Malas was still suffocating Eviaren so Sala was trying to save him. Malas released Eviaren but only to use her hands to cover her mouth. Sala was puzzled about this until Eviaren (also holding back his laughter) pointed to his head. Sala felt around his head; there was something big and springy on his hair. He peered at the mirror situated in the stall and saw it: a big, pink bow like a misshapen Creamy. He sharply turned to Gareth, who was squatting on the ground, snickering.

"GAGO!"

"Yeah. Very pretty." Zyriel shook his head, chuckling as a very angry Sala chased a laughing hunter through the streets.

"Come on. Before Sala beats up Gareth." While Frey slipped on his mocking manteau, Zyriel felt sheepish; Frey held Sala who was still thrashing in his arms while Gago stuck out his tongue. A few words calmed Sala then he went over to Gago and wagged his finger at him. All the while, he had that cheerful expression on his face.

"Wow. Lord Frey is so good," Malas said breathlessly. She was holding the little novice's hand.

"Of course! Kuya Frey has a knack for keeping peace. He never gets angry or shouts," Eviaren informed her. "When we're traveling he would walk behind so I wouldn't get attacked or anything."

"Wow," she said again. Her admiration for the knight grew. Frey reminded her of a person who was very much like him.

**Ngiti**

_Little Mala reached for the mug of hot milk on the counter. Standing on tiptoe, one hand clutching a book, the other reaching for the mug nearest to the edge. Her fingers curled around the handle. All right!_

"_What are you doing!" a voice boomed._

_She yelped, dropping the book and the mug. The book fell open and the mug crashed onto it, spilling the milk. No! Now she doesn't have milk. Worse the book was ruined! _

"_Tsk. Look what you've done." An acolyte at the doorway, the other kid pushing each others trying to get a better view. Oh no! Brother Harsch! _

"_Ingrate. Do you know how much those mugs cost?" Mala trembled as Harsch glared down on her. The kids, around a dozen of them, began to yap at Mala, tattling how much trouble she's in. _

"_What's going on here?" Harsch started as Father Matthew appeared behind him. The kids crowded around him and began speaking at once._

"_Father! Mala broke a mug!" squealed a green-haired kid. "Is she in trouble?" _

_Matthew made a thoughtful face then made his way to Mala. Harsch bowed his head as he passed. He had only respect for the priest. Mala started apologizing; the last thing she wanted was Matthew to be angry with her. But the Father did nothing of that kind. Instead he picked up the book and flipped the pages._

"_This is not your favorite book, is it?" He inquired kindly. Mala shook her head. "Then it's fine. This is just an old copy of "Libro Mio". No harm done."_

"_But Father, she broke one of the mugs," Harsch maintained. The father cupped his chin, thinking. "Is that so?"_

_Fr. Matthew rummaged through the cupboard, producing a mug. It had a picture of Angeling and multicolored Porings singing against a snowy background. He filled it warm milk and gave it to her._

"_Mala," Fr. Matthew began gently. "See what happens when you don't wait? Every action we do will have a consequence; good with good and bad with bad. Patience is a virtue but you going ahead of the others do not show that. Now, if you promise me that you'll always wait for others during dinner then I'll give you my favorite mug."_

_She nodded her head; her cheeks tinted a pretty shade of pink. "I promise." She took the mug with both hands. It was warm. The priest closed his eyes and grinned at her. Then he sprung up and called for everybody's milk. A stampede of kids scrambling for their milk. He laughed amidst the confusion then began mock crying for help. The kids had tackled him and he let them, enjoying the ruckus._

_Having heard the shouts the other acolytes rushed to the kitchen, three females and another male, Angel. Utter confusion on their faces as they watched the kids laughing over their bishop._

_Only Mala stood alone, cradling the mug and constantly examining it. She held it near heart. Needless to say, it became her favorite cup and one of her most prized possessions._

_That memory was one of her sweetest, the memory of smiles._

"You've got a nice smile. That's for me I hope." Mala started from her recollection. _Zyriel... _You have a nice smile too, the thought flit through her mind without realizing it. Zyriel ruffled his trainee's hair.

"So my apprentice has been showing you some tricks, eh? He's a very fast learner; most don't even learn lighter spells this early during their novice years." There was the tiniest suggestion of pride in Zyriel's voice.

"It's because he's got a great teacher, right Evie?" Malas said. Eviaren nodded, grinning like a Poring. Zyriel looked away, embarrassed by her compliment.

Malas moved closer to him and began. "Zyriel...I just want to say—" His ears pricked up, eager to listen to what she's about to say when Gareth bounded in between them. Sala slinked right behind, still a bit mad.

"Hey! I've got an idea. Let's all check out the Pet merchant," Gareth eagerly shouted out, unaware that Zyriel's expression now was very much like Sala's.

"Not me. I'm going to check out the potions in the Clandestine Library," Sala told Gago moodily.

"You're actually going to check out the potions? But I thought that was just a cover—oomph!" Whatever Gago was going to say was snuffed by Sala's elbow. Zyriel only noticed the way Mala's eyes lit up.

"Library?" she asked.

"Yes. Would you like to come, I wouldn't mind." Sala pushed his pince-nez back. "At least some of us are sophisticated enough to enjoy the pursuit of knowledge!"

Gareth, yawning, leaned on his bow then snapped up in mock surprise. "Oh, excuse me...were you talking?" Sala narrowed his eyes dangerously but turned away from Gareth when he saw that expression on Malas's face. He didn't know why but he liked seeing her like that: like a kid who had been offered a lifetime supply of candy.

"Zyriel, can we go there?" Mala had turned to him, her hands together at chest level, and her eyes pleading with him. He smiled wryly at her. He had read more than enough books in the dark to suit him a lifetime. But it made him really happy, seeing her like that. Besides she looks so darn cute! How could he possibly refuse?

"Sure...I—"

"Uhm...Zy?" Somebody poked him. What! He was talking here! But Zyriel's irritation dissipated when he saw Frey's apologetic smile. "I ran into our _suki_ and she said she wanted to discuss with us about a certain business transaction a month ago." Lord Frey gestured his thumb behind him, where a lady blacksmith was tapping her foot. A knight and an assassin were standing with her.

Zyriel sweatdropped. The transaction was the one he was carrying out when he first met Malas. But due to incidents that followed, he wasn't able to complete or follow up the deal. Even the nicest person could get cranky after a month without updates. The blacksmith was now glaring at him. Sighing, he had to do what he had to do.

"Seems like that I won't be able to join you."

"Oh." Malas said a little dismayed. Zyriel took her hands then gave her a friendly peck.

"_Interesting..."_ Sala thought. At the exact moment when Zyriel kissed Malas, Frey had his back turned and Eviaren was being preoccupied with Gareth's wolf story making Sala the sole witness of the event.

"You just go ahead and have fun, okay?" Zyriel turned back to wave as he ran. Frey, who went ahead, gazed over his shoulder and wondered why Malas looked so shocked.

"Oi! Let's meet up at the ice cream merchant after one hour!" Gareth yelled, finally noticing that Frey and Zyriel had gone off. Zyriel replied with a faint "Yeah!"

"Shall we now proceed to the library?' Sala politely voiced out.

"Bah! Hey Eviaren, let's leave the _girls_ to go to the library." Gareth pulled Eviaren along a split second before Sala fully processed what he just said. "See you later, ate!" Eviaren yelled.

". . .Hey! I am not a **girl**!" His pince-nez almost fell off from shaking his fist. Sala pushed them back and coughed. "Malas?" he called softly.

She had not moved: her eyes still wide and her cheeks rosy pink. She slowly raised her hand and placed it on her cheek.

"What's the matter?" he teased. "It's like you've never been kissed."

"Ki—iss?" she sputtered.

"What! You really haven't!" Sala said in surprise. Mala didn't answer, still speechless from the shock. _Oh Zy, be careful...be very careful. _There was more to this girl than what to be seen. Being kissed by Zyriel had completely thrown her off. Sala contemplated if this was a good or bad thing.

"He kissed me. Why?" She squeaked.

"Because he likes you." Sala said with a wry smile. "_Really, really likes you,"_ He silently added. Sala did some quick thinking and had calculated the next move. He decided it was a good thing but toned down the significance. "Come on, Mal, you're friends now. It's his way of showing affection."

What Sala said barely registered on her mind so the alchemist gave up and shrugged his shoulders. He sighed and grasped Malas's hands, pulling her along the path towards the Clandestine Library.

**Clan destine**

She followed him through narrow alleys and sharp turns. Her mind had return to functioning normally so she asked what exactly the Clandestine Library is.

"It's exactly its name, a vast secret library hidden underground." He explained, ducking under a broken fence. "It's been estimated to have been built around 700 years ago by order of a rich scholar. He stocked it full of books of his studies. When he died, his students continued add books and scrolls to the library and so on and so forth until to this very day. So you could just imagine what kind of ancient info is stored there."

"Are you sure I am allowed this library? It sounds like a place you couldn't get into." She had difficulty scaling a wall.

"It was exclusive then but it's for public use now. Okay, not exactly. It'd be a tough place to find...unless you're strong enough to search." Malas stopped climbing when she heard those words. A hand was reaching for her from above the wall. She grasped it tightly as he pulled her up. They stood up on the top of the wall, a soft breeze blowing through them.

"Besides," Sala continued. "I know I could trust you. The entrance is shown by those who have already gain access to those who they deem to worthy of the knowledge." Sala leaped down into the narrow alley. He scurried forward as Malas followed after him. The thief flushed again, flattered that Sala deemed her worthy.

She was walking down earthen steps. Sala followed after her, closing the wooden door. Far to her right, the room stretched as wide as the building they had entered. It smelled lemony and of old books; Malas relished the scent. The bookshelves evenly spaced vertically from where Malas was standing. Her heart leapt at the sight of bookshelves. She wanted to grab a book and start reading!

But the longer she stared at the shelves, the stranger her feeling got. Beyond the first row of bookshelves was another row like it, and another but each one got darker and past the third row was complete darkness.

"This is only the first level. Don't be scared of the darkness, it's perfectly normal to see it. It's when you don't that's bad." He said cryptically.

"Why?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Do you **really** want to know?" Too curious to refuse, she nodded.

"Then you have to ask Zyriel because that's what he told me when he brought me here." Sala pursed his lips as he stepped forward. "But he says it's got to do with the ancient librarian."

Sala chose a bookshelf right in front of a glass window-like opening. Light streamed freely from the rectangular opening so there was enough light to read for that part. Sala sat on the step of a ladder propped on one of the shelves and cracked a book. Malas was below him, searching the opposite shelf. Once, she thought she saw something white move in the shadows. The next moment she was sitting on the side of the ladder closest to the light.

"_Inane."_ He thought glumly after skimming the first seven chapters. The book was full of crack formulae such as "Mixing a red potion and a yellow potion shall result in a more potent orange potion." Bah! As if. Someone has a really bad sense of humor. He reached for another book and was about to crack it when he noticed Malas had been staring at same page for the last five minutes.

"What's wrong?" Aside from the fact that some potion writers should be hanged.

"All there's written here are about potions. Not stories."

"Stories, is that you're looking for? Well." Sala managed to look both amused and regretful. "I'm afraid you won't find that here. Like I said, this library was established by a scholar for academics studies." Malas returned the book to its shelf but did not give up.

"How about you, Sala? What are you looking for here?" she asked as she searched the shelves.

"Me? I'm looking for formulae that might help me turn base metal into gold." Sala flipped through the pages.

It would be better to search in the lower levels but...

"Do you have money problems too?"

"No, nothing like that." Sala waved his hands as he continued reading a passage. "I've been blessed that our party could raise more than just a small fortune. It's the principle of the thing actually. I mean alchemy was first initiated by trying to turn base metal into gold. I want to be the first to achieve that elusive goal."

Malas sat down, a new book in her lap but it was forgotten as she listened to Sala about the supposed beginnings of alchemy. A story of a genius but viewed by others as a madman. His students kept disappearing one by one but soon he had produced not only gold but monsters that ate the eyes of people.

"It's only a story though, created to scare children." Sala explained, not telling her that he was the first to believe. When they were younger, Frey and Zyriel had scared him with tales of sacrificing one's eyeballs to acquire the knowledge of alchemy. However, Malas was hooked.

"Do you know anymore tales like that? Stories?"

"Stories?" he repeated blankly. "But I don't know..." Her eyes pleaded with him..._Please_... A pause. A melancholy sigh. He gazed deep into the eyes, as if to find something. And found it.

"There is one that I know."

"There was once a merchant trying to make a living. He made his own wares and personally traveled to get the strangest materials. Everyday, he tried to sell them but no one would buy them. He never gave up though and tried everyday. This went for a long time and some people weren't very kind to him. They hated him just because he sold his own way. He never harmed anybody but they loathed him because he would never give up. He was a pest, a very annoying pest. Some beat him but most just ignore him. That hurt him most of all. Then one day he disappeared. Nobody noticed even that until a beautiful knight appeared. She didn't know about the merchant but she really liked the wares. So she waited for the vendor but he never came. It was ironic that his works were only appreciated when somebody else did."

There was a long silence.

"Whatever happened to the merchant?"

He smiled sadly. "That's what everybody would like to know. Since he loved his works, I don't think he would leave his shop freely. Somebody must have taken him away. It was presumed that he was..."

"I don't think that's what happened." Malas cut in. "I think he loved his work so much that he left them behind so somebody might love them too." Malas hugged her knees and looked up the window. "Maybe he just is waiting for the right moment or the right person." Malas turned to him. "That was a nice story, thank you for telling it to me."

A little smile escaped his lips. He was about to tell her another tale when he stopped. Malas momentarily wondered then looked to the window. A small brown face was watching them! It tapped the glass with its yellow beak, as if trying to get their attention.

"What's that!" she cried.

"An owl!" _But in the daytime? This can't be good._ He thought as he bolted for the door. Malas followed along the earthen steps. They never saw the page where the book fell open. A picture of seven angelic beings. On the next page, **_The Seven Angels: Fact or Fiction? _**A flash of white then a hand with calloused knuckles picked it up. It stopped and raised its white hood, watching through the window.

When they got outside, the owl flew up and circled an area on the wall. Their eyes followed it and landed upon beside a little white-clad girl, perched on the **city** wall. She had her hands on her hips and looked no more than 12 or 13. Her corn yellow hair was cut straight and short. Sala instantly groaned. Oh no, not...

"Lily!"

"You know this girl, Sala?" Malas stood poised, her daggers out.

"She's the bane of my existence," he answered deprecatingly.

"Salamangka Gona!" For a little girl, she's got a booming voice. "I must test your true strength. Defeat the monster I shall pit against you!" She lifted her right hand and a ball of pink energy floated above it. She pitched it toward Sala. Sala took his axe out; preparing to face whatever hideous monster should appear. The ball suddenly became...a Poring? Malas peered over Sala's shoulders, both staring dumbly at the pink creature.

He tapped the Poring with his axe. "Uhm...hiyah?" It exploded in confetti hearts.

"You did it!" the girl shouted. She held out her arms. "As your reward for your prowess, accept this kiss!"

Sala's eyes widened as he violently shook his head.

"But Sala..." Lily beseeched but stopped cold when she spotted Malas. "Eyyy? Who's she? Your latest squeeze?" she screeched.

"No, Lily! It's nothing like that!" Sala exclaimed but Lily wasn't listening. She bit back her lip, trembling. Her hand crackled with yellow energy.

"SALA! How could you do this to meeeeee!" A circle lighted up around her feet and she floated as if in a trance. Orange energy sparkled around her. Below the alchemist and the thief jumped back, a giant circle had appeared on the ground before them. From the dark recesses within, slowly emerged a giant, orange, furry head wearing a hat. Sala gripped his axe, splaying himself to protect the girl. _Damn it, this was no Poring it was..._

**_Vermilion_**

A thief sat on the rooftops of Morroc, enjoying the scenery. A wind blew through his vermilion hair and he breathed in deeply. Hmmm? Something doesn't smell right. He stood up and glanced over the area below him. To his right, a flash of orange light. Vermilion turned to the general direction of Lily and his jaw dropped in shock

"Lord God almighty!" His gaze dropped to the sign situated below on the wall. "There's a sale on red potions and I'm missing it!" He added as an afterthought, "Oh and an Eddga is attacking that part of town."

Vermilion was idly wondering what Eddga was doing in Morroc when small speck flew from the horizon and into his line of vision. It rapidly flapped its tawny wings as it landed on Vermilion's arm.

"Damaso! Shouldn't you be with your owner?"

Damaso was tired but he had to warn him. To a passerby, his frantic bleating might have been interpreted as random hoots but not to Vermilion.

"_Apa_! _Baik_." An alchemist is in trouble and with him is the girl. Darn. "Looks like they need help. Damaso, _pergi Tulong!_" He swung his arm, and the owl took off. Whew, he remembered the commands. What's the deal, anyway, training Damaso in some archaic language?

He watched the owl fly off. Vermilion checked for the monster hat. He could still see it. That part is narrow and generally unpopulated. Good and bad. He snapped his fingers. The Clandestine Library! He put on his goggles, preparing for action.

"Time to motor." But instead of rushing towards to help, he leapt to the other direction. If he recalled correctly, a sale was waiting for him.

**Tsong, Ano Bang ** **Sinasabi** **Mo**

"Eddga!" Sala cried. A deafening roar from the tiger-like creature. It towered ominously over them; Sala gritted his teeth. Then from out of nowhere, a shrill. His eyes never left the Eddga but he knew who it was.

"Crisostomo!" The falcon replied with another shrill. Yes, this was the break he was waiting for! He flung his pince-nez. The falcon swooped down and caught the glasses with his talon.

"Alert! While I take on this freak!" Sala heaved his axe at the Eddga. It bounced off its stomach and after three seconds...it gave an enraged cry. (What a maroon: P) The Eddga extended its claws and lunged at him. Sala instinctively pushed the girl away as the Eddga struck barren ground. Close call.

"Wild falcon on the loose," observed the lady blacksmith. Zyriel and Frey turned sharply to sky. "What kind of errant hunter would let his falcon run amuck?" Nearly the other side of town, Gareth dropped the backpack he was haggling over. His followed the movements of the bird, listening to the wild cries of the large falcon. Eviaren picked the backpack and stared at the hawk too. It hovered; something glinting from its claws. It gave three short squawks, three long shrills, and three shorter squawks before diving.

_Cris?_  
_Sally…  
Mala!  
In trouble._

The alchemist waved the clouds of dust away. It cleared, only to reveal that the monster was making its way to him. It put up its paw, as if signaling some sort intent. Fire engulfed its sharp claws. Eddga drew its arm to strike; suddenly it bellowed. It swung itself, like a dog chasing its tail. The surprise that Sala felt at the boss's behavior was nothing when he saw what was causing it. Two daggers were embedded on Eddga's back, with Malas hanging from each of them! She dangled, waving her feet, trying to plant to her feet on its back.

"What the he—get down from there NOW!" Bad choice of words, as the Eddga sharply turned, the force sent Malas flying. She smacked into the wall and slid down, her eyes tightly closed from the pain.

"Oh dear," Lily watched the thief, barely conscious, below her. "Maybe I shouldn't have been too hard on them." She had lowered the attacking power of her modified monster but increased the defense so they won't find it _too_ easy. Still...

Eddga overshadowed the thief now, a great scowl on his furry face. "**_Is this what I get? Paltry tricks of a thief_**_ **girl?"**_ he rumbled. **_"Fool, you were none my concern."_** He displaced his hat, unveiling a pipe. His large paw grappled it and brandishing it like a whip, extending into a pointed fencing sword. **_"But you've made your choice."_**

A loud explosion from Eddga's back, shattered glass littered his feet. Leaving the girl, Eddga turned to his real target. Sala had taken off his coat; strapped on him were a leather bag and belts with potions that seemed to boil.

"Hey! Who wants some!" He took another and hurled it at Eddga. It blasted upon contact but it had no effect upon the monster. A circle lit up and wind brushed its fur. Now with greater agility and, he dashed to Sala.

"Okay, I've distracted him, now what!" Sala took several of the potions between his fingers and hurled it all at Eddga. A bigger explosion but it only the monster stopped for a sec. That second was good enough. A brown blur had swept Eddga's head, angering the tiger beast. A shrill cry that Sala had hoped for. The falcon dropped the glasses and turned his sharp eyes to Sala.

"Nice work, Crisostomo!" He placed two fingers in his mouth, a high pitched two-note whistle. With a wave of his hand, he cried: Now, **Blitz Bea**t!"

Crisostomo gained higher velocity and swooped down, glowing with golden power. He struck the Eddga's head, knocking it a few steps back.

"Good! Again! **Blitz Beat!" **Sala whistled again, forcing the falcon to return. However, Eddga fired his claws and swiped falcon's airspace. "**Up**!" Sala commanded, allowing the falcon precious seconds to evade Eddga's fire.

"**_Is that all, alchemist! More distraction tricks?"_** Eddga dashed again. Sala tried to dodge both the pipe-sword and Eddga's fiery claws. **_"I see my summoning has been in vain. Show me your true strength_**!" Eddga kicked Sala and had him thrown to the ground. The monster threw his paw, aiming for Sala's torso.

HISSS!

Eddga jumped back, his fiery paw stinging. He narrowed his eyes at the newcomer: a woman, a white hood covering everything but her smile. She slowly drew back her fist: slightly smoking and covered with three angry welts. She placed her other hand on it and chanted the prayer for healing. The wounds disappeared, returning the fist to its original yet calloused state.

"Good to see you again, Sir Alchemist. It's been a while." She spoke as if commenting on today's nice weather. She lifted off her hood, her rusty colored hair braided and revealing eyes of the same color. Sala gasped, more from relief than shock.

"Same to you Miss Monk." The monk helped him get up. Through their many chance encounters in the library they came to know each other's faces but never got to know their names. Still a bond was formed and they called each other by their jobs. "Malas!" Sala cried out. She was still slumped against wall. But the monk held him back.

"Take care of tiger here while I go after your friend." The monk whispered, shielding the alchemist. Sala patted himself, alarmed. "Miss Monk, I don't have any mines left."

"Well that's peachy." She muttered. She didn't want to snap but the girl could be in critical danger. Sala whistled but the falcon did not appear. He spurted three more times when something whizzed above their heads. Eddga's hat fell on the ground, an arrow pierced in to it. The monstrous tiger did not seem care; in fact, it did not move.

* * *

Apa-(Mal) What?

Baik-(Mal) fine

Pergi-(Mal) Go.

Tulong-(Tag) Help. Incidentally the Malaysian of this is "tolong."


	5. PnE5: Return of the comeback

--oOo--

Parokya ni Eddga.5  
"You thought it was over but it's only on the rise."-Parokya ni Edgar; Yes,yes, show.

* * *

"Oh ho ho," Lily mused. "What do we have here? 'You can't see me?' I'm— " 

"**_Afraid not."_** Lily and Eddga put out their right arm. Lily's eyes glowed purple and as did Eddga's. **_"Come out, Mage!" _**Purple fire rained but not on Sala or the monk; rather on the area behind them. A yelp drew Sala's attention. A mage with black unruly hair, like an invisible curtain being pulled away, materialized on the middle of the road. _Zy!_

"Oh, purgatory, I was hoping you wouldn't detect me," Zyriel said, peeved.

"Have you forgotten, Zyriel..." The new voice that called lifted the alchemist's spirits. _Frey!_ Towards the left of Zyriel, up in the abandoned house, the knight stood his hand on his sword. White metal shaped like wings jutted out of his helm. "... That Eddga can detect those which are hidden?"

"Feh."

"Hey! I can look cool too!" Another voiced barked. The sun was high and silver glinted. On the opposite side of the street, a hunter steadied himself on the decaying rooftop. "**Hosha!** I am the great, the indomitable, the superbly...!" The rooftop finally gave way and the hunter shouted as he crashed to the ground.

"Gago." Sala finished.

Meanwhile the knight gracefully took off, his manteau flying as he landed in front of Zyriel. Coughing and wheezing, Gareth got up from the pile and rambled to Zyriel's other side.

"Not fair!" Gago complained. "Frey's stayed up wearing those chain mail and stuff while I (with my wonderfully sexy figure) landed on my butt!"

"He's got a point there, he's several pounds lighter of gray matter," Zyriel said to Frey.

"That's right...hey!" Before the hunter could get even, Sala came running up to them. He wasn't wearing his overcoat anymore and all his explosives were gone.

"Oh, Eddga,", Gareth thought. "those mines should at least made a nasty mark! But look at him, barely a scratch!"

"Guys!" Frey caught Sala as he tumbled.

"Sally! You've done it again!" Gareth's worries were hidden by his amused tones. "A legendary monster magically appears in a populated city. That could only mean...your girlfriend's here."

"Another one?" Zyriel sighed and leaned against his staff. "At least last time it was a horde of unlegendary Isis in Prontera. You should really tell your GF to stop it."

"Don't be so mean. I think she's cute," Frey kindly put in.

"She's-not-my-**girlfriend!" **Sala protested through gritted teeth.

"Will you people get moving? I can't hold him forever!" the monk snapped. Sweat seeped down her face as she concentrated to rooted herself and the tiger. Eddga had not moved since the arrow shot his hat. But now-a smile crossed the furry face. Not so far from the wall, the white clad girl did the same.

"Right!" Zyriel pumped his hand in the air. "Everyone...Devil's Mischief...Tactic: Dating Gawi!" The other three joined him. **"Fight!" **

"So I see…" Lily discerned. "**_Your true strength lies not in yourself but in others."_** the voices of Eddga and Lily mixed. The ground shook Eddga moved one humongous step forward. **_"Very well. Let the true battle begin." _**A circle once again formed under Lily, yellow energy mixing with red. The Eddga bellowed as orange energy spurted from the enchanted circle into his body. Then it stopped; his head limp.

"Dude...what are you saying?" Gareth said quizzically. (This is the translation of the above. /heh)

Frey drew his sword, darting in front of Zyriel while Gareth took his place behind the mage, stringing his bow. Sala placed himself slightly to left and behind the mage. The monk waited with bated breath. The furry head snapped up and its eyes no longer human-like or intelligent and every hair standing up it end. An out-of-control cat. When she realized that Eddga was no longer under her spell, the monk proceeded to bring it down. She ran and leaped bringing her arms for a deadly blow. Eddga swiped at her but before it made contact, she vanished.

Frey took this as a signal and charged at the Eddga. His mind only for the battle, the tiger parried the knight's blows. It was Frey's sword against Eddga's pipe. But the monster was now taking the offensive; Frey had to avoid both the pipe sword and the fiery claw. He was about to make the most use out of both and brought them down at the knight. There was no time for he complete the blow; an arrow pierced his shoulder, forcing him back. The knight rightly took the opportunity to slash the tiger's chest.

* * *

The monk relocated and landed just in front of the girl. She kneeled down to examine her. The monk gingerly touched the head; the girl groaned. She was about to lift her when she noticed it. A scrape flushed with blood hidden in the midst of her golden hair. Further prodding revealed bruises leading from her neck to back. Not knowing the extent of her injuries, it would be dangerous to move her now. She concentrated on healing the thief while at the same time providing a barrier for both of them. 

A warm light enveloped her. "Sa..." she groaned. "Don't worry. Just rest. They're here," a voice reassured her.

They? Malas watched the monster being hacked by Frey. Slowly falling unconscious but unwilling to, she desperately searched for the alchemist. He was far from the fracas, right behind the mage. At the sight of Zyriel, she finally let herself rest.

The monk got up, her healing never wavering. The Eddga had just gone berserk, who knows when he'll get tired of the knight and go after them next. Inside the protective barrier, she prayed, silently calling for her party.

* * *

Flight of Seven Angels

"_Success?" _thought the alchemist. Look closer, snapped a voice inside him.

"Damnation! Nary a scratch or what not!" Sala cried out.

"Eddga..." Gareth spoke it like an oath. Eddga had merely broken off the arrow stuck to its shoulder and fought again like it was nothing. The archer calmly strung another arrow. Zyriel placed a hand upon his staff and began to chant.

"Oi, Zy, light me up!" Frey was almost burned as a fire wall had sprung up between him and Eddga. Nine arrows shot through it and pierced Eddga's body. What the monster did was put both his paws to the burning arrows and flamed them, leaving only ashes.

"Fire...he is fire after all," Gareth murmured to himself. The hunter was totally different in battle than from his usual antics.

"What now? Tactic: Dating Gawi doesn't seem to work," Zyriel said, irritated.

"I'll think of something. Keep supporting Frey. Sala, be on stand-by with coating wax." While Zyriel chanted for lightning this time, Gareth coolly eyed his surroundings. He studied it, deciding what would be best. The sides were lined with abandoned houses while the front with a part of the city wall. He could make out a white figure watching the battle. And his gaze lowered down.

'Hey Sala, I've found where your girl is and...what, there's a super sale on red potions!" Gareth exclaimed.

"Focus, Gar, focus!" Zyriel concentrated. It would have been better to freeze the big guy first but Frey could get hit. And he didn't care for cold spells anyway. The lightning had done nothing more than petrify Eddga for a few seconds.

"Right..." Gareth centered right behind the Eddga, who was still being blasted by Frey's sword. Still not a scratch. It's as if... "It can't be harmed by surface blows." A plan brewed in his mind. Hmm...waht was special with Lily's puppet this time? "Zy, could you sense this guy for me?"

"What? Fine! But you distract him." Zyriel closed his corporeal eyes and open those in his mind, attempting to use the tricky spell. Gareth directed his energy to his strung arrow. Eddga was pushed back again. The knight slashed and ran behind as the tiger was struck by arrows in multitudes of nine's.

The mage snapped his head up, puzzled by what he felt. "This is weird. I don't sense any life force in this Eddga. Still, your attack hurt him; unfortunately his defense's really high and his attack power is slowly rising to match it."

Was that all? Then they would just need to pull off the 'move'. Every party had to have a 'move', right? "Cool. Here's the plan. We're going to use..."

* * *

Frey blocked the pipe-sword and returned the blow to the Eddga. Was it only in his mind or was Eddga getting quicker? Circling around the monster, he halted and thrust his sword to ground. A wave of energy directed, upturning the ground. Eddga did the same! The two energy waves met halfway and negated each other. "My Magnum Break!" shouted Frey in disbelief. 

Eddga took up the pipe-sword and began to jab Frey. The knight sidestepped left and right but was finally caught by the claws in an unguarded moment. Sent sprawling on the ground, the knight used his sword to shield himself. It reverberated in his arms and came close to his chest as Eddga struck it down.

* * *

Frey...it will be all right. He's got a plan. The voice spoke inside the knight. It was familiar voice, a comforting voice, a voice from childhood. 

"Well, I'll be counting on it, Laffordia," thought Frey. And he smiled.

* * *

"The knight!" Lily cried. 

To anyone watching, it was obvious her Eddga was winning. He bore down on the knight, pressing his own sword against tLord Gard. Why won't anyone help him? If anyone would actually be killed, that would be horrible! And Sala would hate her forever! Oh and her father might get really angry and might stick her with this child-body for a hundred more years...but that was a minor consequence.

The thin blade was growing closer to Gard's neck ...so why is he smiling! Her gaze was now upon the stormy-haired alchemist,who was fearfully looking at the thief girl. Rage welled inside her as she took control of her puppet Eddga again. Nobody takes away the attention of her alchemist!

"Go after her," Lily commanded with her will. The puppet followed the master's strings.

* * *

"Don't you know how dangerous that is?" Zyriel said incredulously, his back turned to the battle. "I can't do it." 

"I don't see why not. You created the strategy." Gareth saw the Eddga pinning down Frey. Just a few more seconds...Lord Frey...

"But this is a city, Gar, a city!" protested Zyriel.

Gareth narrowed his eyes, not in anger but in scrutiny. Beyond the Eddga the monk, just standing there... he saw no more for a huge, furry back covered his vision.

"Eddga had changed target!" Gareth informed them, setting his bow again. "He's going for the monk!"

"Oh no, Malas is over there!" Sala cried.

What! The mage spun around and said nothing, letting his actions speak for him. Nothing, nobody will—!

* * *

It was like looking into a cave of huge snapping teeth. She did not flinch as the Eddga tried to claw through the barrier. The monk stared at it going berserk. She was deep healing the girl, a special technique of the Cathedral that normally enough would tire her but now she had keep up a holy barrier. She was tired but if this thing annoys her any more... Out of the ground, a huge tower of flames burst. Allowing herself to be startled, she stepped back. The flames spread itself into a narrow straight wall. It was so intense that heat even reached her. Eddga backed off, his whole front singed and smoking. 

Frey was on his hands when the fire wall erupted. He grappled for his sword which had been dropped. The knight glanced quickly to the city wall and to his companions. They had the plan, he could not waste time. "I have to bait him...Hey kitty! I'm the one you want!" A knight dancing like a chicken but not be the best distraction but whatever works. Sure that he had Eddga's attention, he ran towards the three.

"Frey! We're going to do 'Flight of Seven Angels.'" Gareth signaled him. Fog began to gather around Zyriel as he gathered enough power to unleash the next phase.

"Flight of Seven Angels? Got it." Frey did a sharp turn and faced the oncoming Eddga. 'Thanks, Laffordia'

"Alley oop!" Sala tossed three large vials. One broke on Frey's helmet, the other crashed on armor's shoulder and the last went smack to Frey's sword. Wax completely protected the knight and he gave a thumb's up. Fixed on the middle of the road, he steadied his sword. Gareth strung nine arrows and charged them, hoping this idea would work.

"Just a little more," Sala urged as Zyriel zealously chanted.

"It's not working! My arrows barely stopped the stupid head. We need something to stop it!"

"Then slow down!" Eddga's steps began to slow down, turning its head. It saw the monk from the barrier on her knees, conjuring another hold spell.

Zyriel's eyes snapped open. "Now!" Torrents of wind emitted from around the mage, destroying the houses around it. He struggled to control the flow energy directly in front of him. Frey began running, just keeping ahead of the gust. He jumped, letting the blast of air carry him. From his helm, the white metal glowed and ethereal image wings sprung from them. His broadsword responded; it shone brightly then dulled. Seven slashes he made to the stock still Eddga before being crashing to the side. The biting winds hit all except for the young monk and her charge. Lily gasped and held on to her short skirt.

"It's still imperfect. It—didn't go through," Frey sputtered. It's okay, said the voice, sending through telepathy his own tiredness. 'And stop calling me Laffordia!'

The Eddga shook off the icicles that had formed around his body. Had been pushed back again. It lumbered toward Frey, the first body he saw. It had lost most of his strength but not the desire to battle. No longer with the pipe but still with his paws, it gave an enraged cry. Frey violently rolled and Eddga had his paws stuck to the ground. Who could help him now?

Shrills! Five falcons covered the sky and swooped down, Gareth's very own Cris leading the way. A disgruntled owl joined the taunting of Eddga. Each bird struck the monster repeatedly then joined in V formation in a modified blitz beat. The tiger gave a weak roar. The owners of the falcons appeared: some on the remaining rooftops, others going through rubbish.

"I've got it now!" the monk cried triumphantly. "Everyone, seven stars!" She left the barrier, confident and her fists clenched. A running start before jumping up and aiming for the Eddga. From the surrounding directions, six others did the same. No sound was made, except for the thump as the Eddga forced upright. The monks, some female and some male, all hooded down except for the rusty colored one; they landed opposite from whence they leaped. The Eddga squeaked before exploding, spewing things from within it.

A piece landed on Gareth, who blown several meters away by initial spell. Disgusted, he was about to throw it in disgust when he found it was actually Poring Card. The hell? It was raining cards, candies and a rare items and dolls.

"Don't tell me that Eddga was actually just a large piñata!" He groaned and lied backto the ground, annoyed that all this trouble because of the some piñata.

The crowds began to gather, finally being to see the battle. Unfortunately for Devil's Mischief, they only saw the last part so they formed a ring for the monks and applauded them. Several adventures cried their disappointment not being able to join but most everyone cheered to see Eddga defeated. After of course, they've scrambled around and snatched a few of the prizes.

A male monk squeezed past the crowds, helped Frey up and quickly revitalized the others.

"Well, Frey, still want to go to the Pyramids?" Zyriel breathed deeply, not quite recovered.

"Zyriel? Shut up." But Frey grinned. He was content just to sit this out. Sala placed a hand on his heart and breathed. Everybody was fine. There was a shrill and a falcon glided down, lighting on Sala's outstretched arm. It squawked.

"No, Crisostomo, I'm not mad that you called Damaso. You did everything right." The falcon fluffed his feathers. Sala stroked it lovingly. "Thank you."

"Are you all right?" Gareth shouted shakily. He pushed aside swordsmen who were blocking his way as he clumsily tumbled to his friends. To Sala he demanded, "Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine" Sala said, touched by this rare display of affection.

"Not you! Cris, I was so worried what could have happened," Gareth crooned as he took the falcon. "Are you hurt, precious? Sally, what did you think you're doing, commanding poor Cris? He's exhausted from your mishandling!"

"_Crisostomo_ is perfectly fine! And stop calling me Sally!" Before their bickering could escalate, the monk gave a tiny cough. Zyriel got up quickly, his eyes shimmering. The female monk from before had broken away from the group. She carried with her a sleeping thief, a slight troubled expression on Malas's face.

After a quiet thanks, Zyriel took her, carefully wrapping his arms underneath her arms. He cradled her, laying her head in the crook of his head. She stirred and draped her arms around his shoulders, murmuring but looking peaceful. A slight flush across Zyriel's cheeks but that did not affect his heartfelt message.

"Don't worry, I'll always be here," He whispered. "To keep you safe."

* * *

Gubibningpo

Zyriel stood outside the inn's threshold, clad only in his black shirt and mage pants. His coat had been taken by a thief but that didn't matter now. His mouth slightly open, gaping at the door, still unbelieving of what happened. When it finally dawned to him, he got down on his knees and screamed:

"I LOVE MOROCC!"

* * *

Vermilion once again sat on the rooftops of Morroc. He breathed in the cool evening air. Aaaahh...smells right. He closed his eyes in content. 

"I know you're there," he said without moving. A figure wearing a white hood appeared from the shadows. The gust of wind picked a few loose strands of rusty hair.

"As sharp as always, Vermilion."

"Ah, you know my name but I don't know yours." He then jumped up and threw a knife at the unexpected guest. She sidestepped, letting the dagger fly.

"Hitting me and with your eyes still closed. Hmm... Well, relax; I'm not here to fight." Vermilion frowned but just sat back down. "What do you want?" he finally asked. She settled herself comfortably beside him. "To talk."

The thief snorted. "Who are you anyway?"

"Honestly, have you forgotten? Or do I have to 'mark' myself?" Vermilion eyes shot wide open. With deft movement, he reached for her right shoulder, throwing aside monk coat. There in the moonlight, on her pale skin, he clearly saw it, a small tattoo of a tear with white wings in the middle of a cross.

"My God, I almost killed you! I'm so sorry..." Vermilion apologized profusely hugged the midriff of the monk, embarrassing her to no end.

"Like that dagger could kill me."

Vermilion drew away quickly, embarrassed too by his own childish act.

The monk pulled back her hood, releasing the braided brown red hair. Vermilion watched her, thinking how breathtakingly beautiful she is... he shook his head. She breathed in deeply; the evening air was absolutely delicious.

"It's great to see you again, Sister Mica."

"Same to you, Vermilion or was it Pedro?" She teased.

"Sister Mica, you promised not to call me that," he wailed. Mica bit back her giggle. He looked so adorable, trying to defend his dignity. "I'm Vermilion, first class thief leader of..." His efforts were squashed as Mica pinched his cheeks.

"Cute! Anyway, I'd like to thank you."

"For what?"

"For saving that party."

"Me? You were the ones kicking butt. I've heard all around. Troop of monks took down a legendary monster, right here in Morroc."

"Oh really? Then what did I hear about a certain red-headed thief who appeared at the red potion sales and alerted everyone of the presence of an Eddga?"

Vermilion simply whistled. He finally relented under Mica's knowing stare. "Okay fine, I told everyone that there was an Eddga—but I only did it so I could have all the potions super cheap! Then I'll scam-er-sell them to other suckers at much higher rates! Mwahahaha!"

Kunyari ka pa. Mica was not fooled by Vermilion's manic laughter. For all his tough exterior, he had such a soft heart. She continued to stargaze until he spoke again.

"What were you doing there anyway?"

"Here." Mica reached within her robes and tossed a hardbound book at him. Vermilion ran his hands over the fine leather and carefully opened the page. A sharp intake of breath. It was full of beautiful calligraphy and hand-painted pictures. A looseleaf stuck out and he pulled it out. He turned sharply to the sister, whose gaze was solely on the cityscape. "It's the book that we both been looking for. I've ben searching for it for days and it was just on the first level, right in the girl's hands! It was fortunate that she dropped it. Otherwise, everything would be ruined."

At the lapse of silence, Vermilion left to his own thoughts. He did not know that Mica was thinking of the same think. The past.

"Wow...a monk, so cool. Who would've thought that you'd be one? I mean, I'd always thought you'd be head priestess. You studied so hard, trained so hard, prayed so hard..."

"And they chose Matthew," Mica sighed. "I wanted to become the head priestess so badly. I left a little after you did."

"I went back once and was really disappointed when I saw you weren't there, Sis Mica. Have you really left the Cathedral?"

"Never. Though I didn't become a priestess, my heart will always belong to the Cathedral and...To someone else." She trailed softly, looking down.

Someone else? Vermilion coolly lay back, staring intensely at the stars. Trying to ignore that little twinge in his heart. Chose another subject!

"What made you want to become the head of the Cathedral? Despite the risks and pain it could involve?"

"The legendary jewel. Only the head has the right care for it. There was power, Vermi, power just shimmering in the jewel. It's a kind power that made you want to risk everything...anything!" The thief startled from this out burst. Mica laughed. "Just the truth, Vermi. Anyway maybe it's better that Matthew got to be head. He's better suit to wield it, I trust him now. Besides, I finally found my true love. And I can be with him."

"Yeah? Who's this true love?" He tried not to care. "One of your monk friends?"

She smiled mysteriously and stretched down next to him. They stayed liked that for awhile, watching the stars. Mica laid her hand over his. He faced her, inquisitive but did not bother anymore.

"Oh, Vermilion?" The thief turned to the monk, who looked at him with twinkling eyes. "Don't call me, Sis Mica. I'm actually younger than you. Mica will just do."

"Okay." He'll save his shock for tomorrow. "Then you could call me Peter."

And both tried to trace the future from the stars.

* * *

Just right below them, Angel watched the same sky. Zen was asleep on the other bed. He put down his pen and strolled to the window. It was a moonless night, allowing the stars to shine their fullest. The girls should be asleep right now. Too bad, as he'd like to talk with D about the stars. She loved those twinkly stuff. He should go back and his sign his letter. He would have it delivered by tomorrow morning. He sat down and took up the pen again, rereading his letter. 

To Father Matthew,  
Bishop of...etc, etc, etc.

Hi Father! It's just me with some random scribbles. How  
are you doing back there in the church and orphanage? Moi? I'm doing  
fine with my training and all that. Would you believe that I have four new  
members who joined my party? I've got a thief, swordsman, merchant  
and a mage in training. They've all got some stories of their own. I'll write  
about them other time. You find the strangest things in Morroc; just  
today there was an Eddga attack. Where did that come from?

And the letter rambled on like that. Hidden away near the ending where prying eyes are sure not to reach, he added his main concern.

Yours truly,  
Black Angel Wings, Acolyte...etc

P.S. And I haven't found the cursed swordsman or the Happy  
Bride. And will it affect my mission if I include my newfound party?

P.S.S. I found her here, Father. And I'm determined to talk to her. Even  
if I have to search every house, inn or rooftop in Morroc, I'll find her.  
I want her safe again!

"P.S.S.S, I think I'm falling in lov..."But he quickly crossed that out. He set aside his letter, blushing at the traitorous handwriting. Cathedral acolytes should not be entertaining those thoughts! So instead he would take time to think.

The acolyte sat on the windowsill. A breeze disturbed his overhanging bangs. He reached out and closed the windows, deciding to sleep as well. But that question burned in his mind. Why? Why did she run? He slipped into bed, determined to carry out his task. Tomorrow, he search.

But by then, it'll be too late.

* * *

You probably have lots of questions... What, you don't? Well, that saves me a lot of trouble. But if you do, just ask away and I'll be glad to answer. 

To Zhang Kai: Yeah, I knew it was you. I'm the kind of person of who checks out profiles and reviews. Much thanks for reviewing 3 of my major fics. About the poems...I could continue the story but it can never be good as the first one. 'Who Cares' was written in the passion of the moment. But I'll try, okay?


	6. Patagong Pagtititpon

**Secret Meetings **

**"Dating Gawi: **This means the usual way. This is the party Devil Mischief's usual strategy while battling. The knight takes the brunt of the attack while the other three will support from a distance. Rather common tactic.

**"Flight of Seven Angels:** The alchemist protects the knight from additional damage with coating wax while the hunter will distract the enemy through a barrage of arrows, giving time for the mage to chant a storm gust. When this done the knight "rides" on the gust and slashes the enemy seven times. The knight seems to possess a magical item that gives him enhanced "holy" powers. He however hesitated to harness that power and failed to defeat the Eddga.

**"Seven stars:** This idea was gained by the female monk. This is simply a modified version of flight...the monks attacked from seven different directions, harnessing the power through a seven-pointed formation. They only won because the Eddga had been sufficiently weakened."

"Impressive...for boy band tricks." In the dark towering room, a man kneeled before an elegant woman sitting in a large square throne. Cold seeped from outside and a storm brewed on the large stained glass windows. Shadows turned into ghastly shapes then stilled before slithering again. A black cat stretched beside the throne and glowered with large and yellow eyes at the kneeling figure. The man had the tan uniform of a bard and a wide-brimmed hat used by the men of the desert—men of great tragedy. Strands of his hair revealed it to be long and the color of dull silver.

She uncrossed her legs and looked down on him. The woman had hair the color of straw sticking out of her hair like fan. Two oversized black metal boots and striped red and blue knee-high socks adorned her legs. A short white robe with long sleeves and black trimmings finished her look. This woman looked exactly like a Loli Ruri.

"And those monks are no better, copying moves from little boys." She didn't laugh but continued to stare down at the bard. "The alchemist, all he did was support?"

The man nodded, careful not to look directly at her eyes.

"Pathetic!" The woman crowed with laughter.

"Thank you so much for your 'assistance.' Keep watch of that party for me," she said, her attention clearly elsewhere. "And I'll keep my part of the bargain. As always."

"Thank you, milady." The bard stood up, and nodded, his blank green eyes still on the floor. He turned to leave.

"My retainer will guide you on your way out." She snapped her fingers and a young man dropped from the shadows beside her. He landed on his feet, a red scarf trailing from his head. Yellow tinted glasses protected his eyes and he wore no additional armor except for a breast plate depicting a snake strangling an eagle.

"There will be no need." The bard took his instrument, a lute with metal add-ons and strummed it. Taking it by the neck, he pushed it down with a click. The huge doors opened and almost immediately, monsters of the darkness pounced him. Quves, disguises, zombies, hyzolists...but he took one aim at each and each fell, their bodies fading away.

The retainer cringed at the screams of the monsters. His mistress had a collection of the darkest monsters of all Midgard. Most of those guarding the castle were just summoned imitations but these imitations could hurt. The man had probably reached the gates... The dying shrieks of the Isis and mummies had already reached his ears. Those two races guarded the gates of his mistress. The retainer ran to the window and watched the bard disappear into the fog.

"Now that..." purred the woman. "...is impressive." With a wave her hand, shadows shimmered and all the fallen monsters slowly began to regenerate.

She stood from her throne and descended the stone steps, her black cat following. A dark fog hanged and slithered around her knees, also forming shapes and silhouettes of dark and flying monsters. She raised one perfect in front of her and the fog gathered around it, forming into something like a snake. She laughed, thinking of the bard but just as suddenly she scowled and crushed the snake's head, dissipating the frog.

"That alchemist is the source of Lily's pain. How dare refuse he my sister's love!" She clenched her fist and threw a tantrum, sending yellow sparks with every stomp. "Soon, Salamangka Gona, you will feel my wrath. It won't be swift, like the way that Kadilimna finished my monsters. But a lot more drawn out and a lot more painful!"

She threw her head back and shouted at the retainer, forcing him to listen. "Hah! I don't see what my little sister sees in him but he has pushed her away too many times. Mark my words, Elshi, I will do what it takes to have my revenge or my name isn't Lady Xeilisticia Black!" Her laughter echoed through the castle escalating even those of the hissing and groaning of the returned monsters.

Elshi Tekk, thought of Mistress Liss's sister, Lady Lily, his rightful charge. However, Lady Lily abandoned him here in Nifflheim so she could chase after the alchemist. He should be feeling angry, Elshi thought helplessly as the mistress laughed on and on. Instead he felt strange empathy for Devil's Mischief. Being chased by one of the Guardia Mundo is bound to cause trouble. A belated thought struck him and he bowed to the giddy woman spouting farmiliars from her hands.

"Mistress, forgive my insolence but...aren't there two Gonas in that party? Could that possibly mean..."

The white-clad woman grinned evilly. "Yes, Elshi. The renegade clan wiped out by that fire did have just one more survivor. The rightful village leader didn't die and has now succumbed to my darkness. Isn't it ironic that the assassin I've snagged to watch them is none other than Kadilimna Gona?"

The lonely bard continued to trek on through the cold region.

_"My son, if you don't survive this woman's purging, a mere test to your true destiny, then surely you don't deserve to live. However, if you do survive..."_ He loaded his lute again, taking careful aim of the rampaging Gibbet. _"You must face me."_

* * *

Moonlight shone from the window as she snuggled the pillow. He wondered what it would be like to be in the pillow's place and felt the blood rush to his face. Why is it he had flushed more times in the last three months than all of the rest of his life combined? He spied the sleeping form of Eviaren on the floor, his legs propped up on the bed and his arms curled around the sheets. They must've been talking. It was strangely nice, that Mala and Evie got along so unabashedly tight.

_"Mala"_ He repeated that name in his mind. Even if she insisted that Malas was her name, Malachuchi struck him as a better fitting one. But he'll compromise and just call her Mala, if only in his mind.

He easily strode the floor and lifted the little novice to his shoulders. It was such a wonder too that how attached he got to the little ragamuffin. _"Or to her",_ added his treacherous mind. _"How easily you've betrayed the one you were…"_

He silenced the thought—like he did so many times before.

She had a faint blush on her cheeks, hugging the pillow tighter. Her lips brushing the pillow's side…like a kiss to a lover…

He bent down, gazing at he fair skin…definitely not Moroccan…who was she?

"_Don't be too fast with her. She's inexperienced, innocent to the advances of men." Mala had gone ahead with Eviaren, who was tightly holding her hand. She was still a bit disoriented. Zyriel would've stayed by her side but the alchemist had pressing matters to tell him. And whatever concerns her…_

"_You're saying that a thief could be innocent?" Gareth shook his head as the falcon fell asleep on the crook of his arm._

"_I agree with Sala, she doesn't seem to be as cunning as a thief should be." Frey caught the mage's eye, wondering too, at Gareth's seething mood._

"_Oh please…she's a thief and she lives in Morocc!" He glared at the stormy-haired boy who was determinedly staring forward._

"_Only recently…there's more to her than what it seems…" Here Sala looked straight at him. "Tread carefully…or you'll have me to deal with."_

He's not one to take threats but he'd been intending to take Sala's advice anyway. Until later, at the Ice Cream merchant. As Zyriel was licking the apricot-flavored treat, he scoured the area for his insidious companions. They were off, making fun with weaponry.

"_Hey, Eviaren, wouldn't you like a nice, big, shiny…arbalest?" Handing it to the novice._

"_Careful, Gareth, you wouldn't want to…"_

_The alchemist let out a sharp, painful yelp._

"_Ooops…"_

"_GAGO!"_

_While they chased each other round again, where was she? He spotted her near Morocc's gate, watching the colors shift in the sunset. Her eyes were sleepy, her arms wrapped around her body. The desert was an irony, where the days were unbearably hot and nights bitterly cold. He took of his overcoat and slid it on her shoulders. She slightly faced his way, eyelids low and face thoughtful._

"_Why do you stare at the desert?" he had whispered._

"_What does it take to cross that expanse?" She rasped in a faraway, pain-filled voice, "I have never truly crossed the desert sands and I may never able to do so. I'll be stranded here until my time runs full and death will stake its claim." Her legs gave way but Zyriel caught her._

"_The cold is making you weak," he said when nothing else came to him._

_She shook her head. "Cold…makes you feel the warmth better." His body was warm…and getting hotter. But she took no more notice as the mage helped her walk. _

_She was well enough to walk on her own by the time they got to the inn's threshold. She still seemed a bit dazed. He would be too, Zyriel told himself as he pocketed his hands, if he had to deal with a boss monster and biting cold temperature. She should be fine now._

"_Uhm…Malas?" She turned, her cheeks rosy from the cold. It was rather ungentlemanly but she didn't seem to need his overcoat anymore. He gestured for it._

"_You forgot something."_

_Oh. She slowly descended the steps. A slow smile filled her lips. She did forget something…What had Sala said—to show affection? She took his face in her hands, his eyes wild with surprise, gave him a little kiss on the cheek._

"_Thank you. For everything." She resumed her way up, guided by the rowdy guys' racket. She really was sleepy…_

_Zyriel's mouth hanged open. After a few moments of vague comprehension he did something he swore would never ever do…_

"**_I LOVE MOROCC!" _**_Frey looked from the window and smiled, having seen that goofy Poring-like grin. _

Zyriel bent down and brushed his lips against her cheeks. He spent several more moments watching her, murmured goodnight and silently walked away. The tousled-haired girl clutched the pillow tighter. A single word escaped her lips, one that would've definitely piqued the mage's curiosity...and ill feeling.

He had to tell Frey not to say anything. He had just put Eviaren in the guy's bedroom when he heard shouting from the common room. Zyriel entered the room which attached their rented bedrooms and a bathroom. There were plushy divans and a soft sofa. A rug with white trimmings on the floor and a roaring fireplace with bookstands on top. Frey was still gazing out the window and Sala was making good use of a divan. Cris perched on a coat rack while the hunter was waiting patiently. Quietly. That was never a good sign.

Yellow eyes turned sharply at him…Seems the meeting had now commenced.

And Gareth wasted no time. "She's joining! Hello, why didn't I get the memo?"

"I thought it was quite obvious…" said Sala, bored.

Gareth sent the alchemist a very dirty look and paced the floor and glared at the mage who walked to the sofa.

"Hey! Summoning us a month earlier than planned, dragging us over dangerous terrain so we could meet a girl, I can understand. But asking us that she join us… What the Hell-o! And that kid is joining us too!"

Zyriel clearly remembered…

_It was at the grand old tree of their childhood. They had agreed to meet there after a certain reprieve but Zyriel had called them sooner for an important meeting. The mage had silently taken refuge in the tree's branches. Eviaren kept looking to the mage, wondering what was going on._

_Frey was the first to arrive, not bringing his peco. He offered a smile of peace then inquisitiveness at the sight of Eviaren. The alchemist followed after scores of minutes, bearing Crisostomo in a messenger bag. Meaning that he was the last to receive the message. Sala peered at Eviaren through his pince-nez and turned to Frey for an explanation. The knight shrugged and said nothing. Finally, the vivacious hunter waved and shouted as he ran them._

"_Hey! Looks like I'm the last, so what's the big hubbub…" Gareth stopped at the sight of not three but four people._

"_By the bow of my arrows! Zy, you've had a kid and you've never told us!" _

"_This is not my kid!" _

"_Yeah, yeah...sure...Just tell me..." The hunter took two leaps forward and slung his arm around Zyriel's shoulder. "Saan, sino at magkano?"_

_As the only one who could fully understand what the hunter meant, he only did what was proper. He swung his staff and struck him in the head._

"_Ohh...pretty colors..." Gareth dropped to the ground, eyes twirling._

"_Well everything seems back to normal," commented Sala. "But really, who's the kid?"_

"_My apprentice."_

"_Your WHAT?" Sala, Frey and Gareth, shouted in unison._

"_You, of all people!" Gareth further exclaimed, forgetting that he was supposed to be unconscious._

"_What's his name?" Frey kneeled down to better see the boy. The little novice hid behind the mage's coat. Zyriel looked down on him, thinking of how fate threw them together. A name surfaced to his thoughts, reflecting his mood._

"_Eviaren..."_

_The knight sharply met his gaze as did the alchemist. The hunter was busy doing a head stand. The novice was fascinated by this display and the hunter grinned. He rolled forward into a sitting position._

"_Cool. My name's Gareth. From now on I'm gonna be your Kuya, got it?"_

"_And I'm Kuya Frey Gard. No need to be afraid."_

"_Kuya Sala. Just a wonder, where'd you get him?"_

"_I'm telling you, saan, sino at magkano?" Gareth cried victoriously. _

_Zyriel sent_ _him spiraling to another trip._

"_Uh...is he okay?" Eviaren whispered._

"_Don't worry... Gareth has a strong, resilient head," Zyriel assured him. He let his attention focus on the others. "There's also something else..."_

_The hunter sprang up—all ears..._

"Lies."

The fuming hunter immediately turned to Sala, then Zyriel, who was looking at the fire. It was neither of them who had spoken. Frey was still staring out the window but slowly faced him.

"You've liked Eviaren since the moment you saw him," Frey said.

"Hold on! I didn't say I hated him!"

"If you could accept Eviaren then why the hostility with Malas on the way back?"

"C'mon! We're Devil's Mischief! We're guys, the inseparable team!" Gareth held out five fingers. "No one has ever joined our sacred ranks."

"Evie did," Sala stated.

"My point is no girl has ever joined the sacred order of Devil's Mischief!" Gareth plopped himself into a cozy sofa tucked in one of the corners of the room.

"No girl has ever wanted to join," the alchemist also pointed out.

"And if ever there come a time that you wanted a girl to join...we'll gladly consider it." Frey smiled as he sat on the arm of Sala's chair. Gareth replied by slumping on the chair and crossing his arms.

"Oh...I get what this is about..." Sala said slyly. Gareth jumped up, and turned at him so fast that the falcon swooped the room, thinking there was an assassin about. Zyriel rose from his pensive mood and barked for order. The bird silently landed on the arm of the hunter's chair.

"It was so obvious, why didn't we see it before?" Sala gave him a grin that Gareth was sure to have patented sometime. "You're jealous!"

"Jealous!"

"Yup. That Zyriel actually got a girl who'd want to join him while you've never have."

This was not what Gareth was expecting but as long as they never really guess the true reason. The falcon perched on his shoulder, copying the hunter's dark gaze.

"Speak for yourself, Sally! Just because Zy and Malas was doing something back there in the room morning, doesn't mean—"

Sala choked on the flask he was drinking while Frey was staring incredulously at Zyriel. Even the falcon cocked its feathery head.

For a moment, the mage's grew face uncontrollably red but subsided as another look replaced it, one of sadness and pain.

"She...she's been stuck here in this city, unafraid to go anywhere else. She was even afraid to venture from her spot here or see what beautiful things you could find even in the hottest city. When I see her..." His voice became a bit lighter. "smile...it's like I'm feeling her happiness too. Like I could give something which I had lost."

Total silence ruled as the fireplace blazed to life, playing with shadows in the room. The hunter walked in the front of it, his profile dark and sketchy. A single tear escaped, no more. All thought about their own losses. A voice came, unlike their own, shouting in incomprehensible words.

"Sala...?" Gareth squeaked.

"Yes?" was the soft reply.

"May I borrow your shoe?" After a tearful moment, asking for a shoe might be considered a bit strange. Nevertheless, he gave it. A brief thanks, Gareth marched to the window, flung it open and with a moment's aim, hurled it outside.

"Oww!" came the strange, dissonant voice.

"**SHUT UP!" **Gareth slammed the window and leaned on it.

"That was my shoe!"

"It was put to better use than covering your feet." The hunter turned his attention to the mage. "But Zy...what about your...?"

The shadows in the room seemed to lengthen and the fire crackled higher. A dark expression settled on his face. The knight glanced at his companion and at the bedroom door. Sala glared at his cousin then worriedly faced the mage.

"I'll always believe in her, will never stop looking for her but right now—"Zyriel broke off to look at all companions evenly. "I'm asking you, would you let her join?"

The fire subsided and crackled lightly. The knight was first to speak.

"I really like her, Zyriel."

"I agree that it would be rather useful to have a thief in the party," Sala said.

All three looked at Gareth. He sighed and pushed himself from the window. It's up to him now.

"Well...if she could put up with Sally and Zyriel then she's made of hardy stuff. I'm all for it!"

Zyriel broke into an easy smile. "Thank you, you guys."

"I just gotta warn you..." Gareth said as he walked to the center of the room. "That girl is bound to bring trouble."

"If we didn't allow troublemakers then you wouldn't be here." Sala stood up, grinning. So tired, he's going to bed.

"Oooooh...great comeback, just get out of here already. I'm staying up and watch the fire." Everyone said their goodnights. Zyriel approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Gar, I'd just like to say..." The grip became tighter and in a matter of seconds, he slammed the hunter to the wooden floor. "We didn't do anything this morning. _Gago_." The mage made sure to step on him. Hard.

Frey smiled as he removed his helm. Hair almost the color of white cascaded down his manteau. "Things are truly back to normal. Sort of..." Zyriel was stepping ahead of him now. "Zyriel, what really happened this morning...?"

"None of your damn business..." And the door shut behind him.

Gareth groaned as he rubbed his arms. Easing into a sitting position, he brushed himself and looked at the fire. He turned his head to the other side, where the thief had a room all to herself...

It was smaller than theirs and there was a window next to the bed. The hunter gazed at the girl who just had dramatically changed their lives. It's not that he didn't like her, because he did. But what if she took away the friendship they've shared for so many years? What if this girl was given more leeway than hi—them? What if the moon was really made out of milk? So many what-ifs were swimming in his mind.

He knelt down and studied her. She was wearing Zyriel's overcoat and cuddling that pillow. It made her look...cute...

"What am I saying?" He violently shook his head then stopped. The girl was talking in her sleep!

"Mat..."

He leaned to better hear. He was flat out puzzled by what he heard... Who the hell was that guy?

* * *

Malas woke up without Eviaren beside her. He must've fallen asleep here; he was talking about the fight. Stifling a yawn, she found it to be too hot. She removed the covering, a mage's overcoat. When did she get this? All she remembered yesterday was being knocked out by the big monster and going home with Zyriel...everything else was blurry.

There were voices outside her door. "Evie?"

She tamed her morning hair with a brush on the small table and went to check what the noise was. She clasped the doorknob and opened it slowly. Sala was on his knees, wearing only a sleeveless black undershirt, going through a square backpack and talking fast. Gareth was standing next to him, looking annoyed and chewing on a chocolate bar. Her mouth watered at the sight of chocolate.

"For goodness sake's, Gareth! Look at the stuff here. Don't you ever clean your bag?"

Gareth mumbled something which she couldn't clearly hear but from the sound of it maybe it was better that she didn't.

"What! Young man, clean your mouth with soap right now! Never mind, stay while we go through this mess." His hand reached deep down and began pulling items. "Rotten fruit peels, animal skins, crumpled bar coverings, your bow(?), cotton shirts, a second-hand Bongun hat...and what...A DEAD TAROU!"

"Oh, that's where he went?" Gareth gingerly poked the little thing. Sala was about to give Gareth another scolding when he let out the shrillest scream Malas heard in her life.

The door to the outside was kicked open. Zyriel, with Eviaren peeking behind him, drew his staff as he stepped in. "I heard a female scream! What! What's wrong?"

Sala was on a chair, his shaky finger pointing to the ground. The "dead" tarou was squeaking and nosing the chairs.

"Ratty! You're alive! Come to papa." But as Gareth held out his arms, the mouse-like ball of fluff squeaked and scampered to the opposite direction. It kept hitting furniture head on and going off in desperation until it hit Eviaren's leg. The tarou scampered up the novice's pants, up his shirt and hid inside the bushy brown hair, making it quiver. Zyriel raised an eyebrow at Gareth for an explanation.

"Hey Zy...it's Ratty. He was supposed to be bait so I kept him in my bag but I kinda forgot about him. But since he's alive, can I keep him?"

It didn't even take a heartbeat. "No."

Eviaren took the poor thing into his arms... "Aww...he's so cute! Could I keep him, master Zyriel?"

"Yeah, sure, why not."

"Hey! How come the novice gets to keep him?"

"Shall I remind you of Porry?"

"Uhh..."

"Droppy, Poporingy, Rhoda, Hunter Gareth II, Ishi, Munako, Le Chon?"

Gareth was nervously scratching his head. But Zyriel wasn't done yet. Oh no. He took his hiding clip from his pocket.

"Do you remember how we got this clip?"

That had done it. Tears welled in Gareth's eyes. While the other pets had run away, his smokie was different.

"My poor SMOKIE! WAH! Geez, Zyriel, why did you to remind me!" Gareth sniffed on his sleeve.

"To remind you of a certain lesson. Face it, I'd be doing that Tarou a favor by not letting him touch you."

"And get off that chair, Sala." The alchemist hopped off, looking grim. Zyriel rolled his eyes and spotted Malas by her door.

"Good morning, Frey's taking a bath so you better go after him. Breakfast will be ready in ten, downstairs tavern." He darted out so fast that Malas had to wonder why.

"That was exciting, let's continue packing!" Sala was obviously trying to forget the incident. Gareth whispered something that sounded like "girly man."

"Packing?" Malas looked despondently to the floor. "Are you leaving already?"

"Yeah, this city is too damn hot for me." Gareth wiped the sweat from his forehead. He just noticed that Malas was sweating all over and her clothes clung tighter than ever. So that's why Zyriel ran so fast...heh.

Malas stammered. "Uh...I...well...miss you..."

Sala and Gareth stopped packing while Eviaren froze, letting Ratty get further to escape the "touch of death" a.k.a. Gareth.

The hunter was the first to raise a disdainful eyebrow. "What do you mean...you're coming with us!"

"Me? But...my stuff isn't here." Gareth grinned and tossed a backpack to her.

"It's all here, even if you check it." Malas was still thinking of a reason of why she shouldn't go but honestly couldn't find any. Someone tugged at her pants. Eviaren stared at her piteously with the Tarou on his head.

"Don't you want to join us, ate? Don't you like Zyriel?"

Malas hugged him. "Of course I do..."

"Cool! Now you'll join our party, train hard and become respectable." Eviaren grinned that Poring grin and the thief laughed, remembering her last words to him.

_"Make yourself a respectable novice and train hard under this mage, and when you're strong enough, come back and join my party, okay?"_

"Malas, your answer...was that for the first question or the second?" Gareth slyly asked.

Fortunately, she was saved of answering by dashing to the bathroom...

* * *

**A/n:** I know that Tarou cannot be made pets in the game. Oh, and Gareth's hair is more of white silver. If you want to see how the characters might look like then click on the links in my profile.

_Zhang Kai: _Lily's mother is a human but her father's somewhere in the middle of mortals and 'gods'. Strange tidbit: Liss is Lily's half sister and though she looks around 30 years old, she's exactly 98 years older than Lily. More on her and her family later.

_For Annika..._  
**In** the story, Tagalog, Malay and Japanese were ancient dialects that were forgotten or basically unknown to the common populace. Translations will be here.

**Gago**- (Tag) derogatory term meaning stupid or jerk. The guys used it in the spirit of fun but Gareth hates it nonetheless. The name stuck when Gareth did something that Sala would never forget or forgive.

**Salamangka**- (Tag) for magic.

**Sala**- (Tag) sin or living room.

**Guardia**- (Tag) Guard

**Mundo** (Tag)-World

**Kailan, sino, magkano**- "When, who, how much..." Gareth was implying that Eviaren was the result of Zyriel paying somebody to...uhm, you know.


	7. Sa Bahay nina Belen, Parol, Carol Pasko

**New Destinations **

As the party paid their dues and finally stepped outside, Malas blinked at the sheer intensity of the sun. Everything felt different. She won't be around here any longer, she'd set for another new life as another party's member. Was this the feeling that up and coming adventurers' usually feel? Not too long ago she attempted to steal from this mage and now she's standing behind him and clasping hands with his apprentice. The other members, the knight and alchemist were behind them, were blinking at the sheer intensity of something else.

"So Mister Zyriel-got-all-my-zeny, where we headed?" Gareth wasn't looking too pleased. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had to pay for all the room charges. He was at the head of the group with Zyriel, the silver hair shining in the light of the sun. The mage was wearing sunglasses as he consulted an atlas.

"You left me running yesterday during brunch. Not my fault." The hunter replied with a snort of contempt. The mage hit back with a disdainful glare behind his glasses. "A short stint in Comodo then we continue our search in Umbala. That okay with you, Malas?"

She shuffled nervously as everyone looked for her reaction. "Uh...um...sure... I'm mean, anywhere you want is fine. Er...what are we searching for?"

"Many things..." Gareth hinted as the mage shut the book. Zyriel slammed the book to the hunter's face face.

"Zyriel!" Malas protested as she rushed to the fallen hunter. "Why..."

"Ugh! Don't worry about me." Gareth shook his head, the silver tint now shining brighter. He managed to smirk as he stood up while Malas, still anxious, clung to his arm. "He's got violent tendencies and a hyper sensitive nature."

Malas's confused looks swung back and forth between the standing friends. "Someday, I'll tell ya all about it."

"We'll all tell you about but for now, trust us." Sala touched her shoulder. Zyriel turned to her and offered a very sheepish look.

"Sorry..."

Gareth pointed to himself. "Oi. Shouldn't you say that to me?"

"When Savages fly." Zyriel punched his ear, but playfully. He got him in a headlock and ruffled his hair while the hunter flailed his hands.

"Not my hair! Not the hair!"

Frey uncrossed his arms and surveyed the area. It was late morning and already the town was in full swing. Trades were being made and services were being offered. The swishing sound was clearly there to draw someone's attention to a priest casting Warp Portals. And that sexy rogue strutting around clearly showed that...something which made him cover the little novice's eyes. The Tarou on his head squeaked in delight. Already there was some sort scuffle happening among the crowds up the street. The sooner they get out of here, the better.

"Zyriel, shall we go already?"

The mage caught the hidden note of impatience. "Right. Now, we'll just warp out of here."

"Warp?" The hunter frowned; he had been used to traveling miles on foot.

"We'll get there faster. You've never seen Comodo, right, Malas?" Zyriel warmly looked at her and a rush of gratefulness swept over Malas. He was doing this for her. He knew—somehow, he just understood—she couldn't cross the desert sands...not just yet. Such a wonderful friend to have encountered.

Frey leaned nearer and glanced warily at the ensuing commotion. It was headed this way and—_I sense the presence of a divine!_

A thief shoved and jabbed the people aside, darting up their way. A male with spiky red hair and a very tangible air of smugness.

"Tally Ho! Sorry, gotta run!" And as he passed girls by, he'd give them a wink. "I'm terribly late!"

A flash of white grazed his shoulder but he neither stumbled nor slowed.

"MY HUNTER DOOOOOLLLLLLLL!"

From the parted way in the multitude, a priestess whipped her long hair and aimed more of the flashing lights. She looked wild and furious; the thief must've stolen something precious from her. Then a curious guy in the black tried talking to her but she paid no heed.

The left shoulder of his coat smoking, the thief breathed a sigh of relief. _"I'm almost safe."_ Then he passed them and glanced at the only girl among the guys. His eyes widened with shock and recognition. That girl...what was she doing with them? He reached for her but his body violently flew to the side. The priestess's last Holy Light had struck true.

That nice thief! Seeing the horror of the boy who had saved her life from the desert being flung to one side, she instinctively tried to save him by grabbing his outstretched arm. Time slowed steadily and a ring of light pulsated beneath them. A rush of cold struck her body and her grip loosened, the limp body of the thief falling quicker than hers.

She let out a scream as she fell into the seemingly bottomless abyss. She could hear Zyriel shouting for her. He had grabbed her other hand and pulled her towards him. But that didn't stop the fall or the cold rushing towards them.

"Ate! Zyriel!" shouted Eviaren. The tarou squeaked, almost falling off from its perch. In less than two blinks of an eye, the circular light receded and the thief and the mage both had disappeared. Gareth gaped at the spot—he was right there, right beside Zyriel and the thief, and he had done not a single damn thing. Like a helpless novice.

Gritting his teeth, he furiously sought an object for his retribution. A hunched-over priest wearing a sakkat and sunglasses, still holding out his shivering hand from casting the spell.

"You bastard! Where have you sent them?" Rage overcame Gareth as he pulled the bearded old man by the collar.

"Gago! There's no need for further aggravation!" Sala slapped the hunter's hand.

Frey looked back for the priestess, for a fleeting moment he saw her with eyes full of shock and longing. In a beam of light she disappeared. Back to Gareth, he was shaking the priest, trying to get an answer.

"Gareth, he's a priest. Stop." It was Frey's calm orders which finally got him to stop—the shaking at least.

"But Frey! Do you know where unsolicited warps go! Dungeons, that's where! Malas could be in serious trouble!"

Well, nice to know he cared. Sala shook his head at his kin. "Your belief is quite unfounded and you forget—Zyriel is with her. There is no need for worry."

"But—"

"Or you could just ask the priest where that warp was fixed," Frey suggested. Gareth just noticed that he had been holding up the priest's collar all this time. Geez, that beard was unnaturally long!

He lifted the old man closer so they were face-to-face. "Okay, old man, where's that warp headed? What kind of devious place had you sent them!"

"Gareth..." breathed Frey. The priest coughed and murmured something. The older members of the part bended closer to catch the word. The youngest one, Eviaren, only watched fearfully as the entire events had played out.

"WHAT!" The three shouted as once. They exchanged puzzled looks and burst out laughing. Gareth let go of the priest and shook his head in embarrassment. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I told you, you shouldn't have worried, now go apologize!" Sala gleefully commanded.

The alchemist's self-righteousness grated Gareth's pride. "Don't tell me what to do, stupidhead!"

Frey was too busy to notice the two got yet another fight, leaving the novice without proper supervision.

"Are you okay, Father?"

He gently assisted the old man in standing up and noticed a very peculiar thing. As the "old man" hunched over and brushed off the dirt, his hands didn't look old at all. It was smooth with fine pale skin.

"Thank you, young man." The priest flicked up the sakkat and lowered his glasses. Sharp blue orbs of crystal blue shone from within. "That's a nice looking helm you got there."

The knight's hand absently flew to his helm. "You're…"

The priest wagged a finger. Frey flushed and turned to the bickering duo.

"Gareth, you better apologize to the Father!"

Gareth stopped with his headlock and stared at him, slightly confused at this outburst. "But, Lord Frey, I wasn't done arguing with…"

"Now."

There will be no arguing with the Lord Frey Gard. "Sorry, Father." But when he turned to face the priest, the old man was gone!

"Kuya Gareth! Where are they?" wailed Eviaren, now that they weren't trying to kill each other.

"Huh? Evs, they're in the safest place possible." Gareth broke into a huge grin. "Lutie. Now, just where did the priest go?"

"Lutie?" asked the novice.

"Hey, you're right, where did that priest go?" Sala rubbed his sore neck.

"Lutie?"

"I dunno—I mean—he was an old guy. Old guys don't run that fast."

"Lutie?"

"Maybe he teleported. But I didn't see any beam of light."

"Kuya Sala!"

"We should ask Lord Frey."

"Kuya Gareth!"

"Don't call me Lord and, no, I didn't see him teleport. I turned away for a sec, he disappeared like a _kisapmata._"

"What's a kisapmata…? No! That wasn't my question! What's Lutie!"

"Hm…Evs? How long you've been standing there?" Eviaren silently fumed. The hunter laughed as he ruffled his hair—why is it always his hair? Now he had to shield his eyes from Kuya's shiny hair.

"It's the safest place they could possibly be." The three nodded solemnly in agreement, leaving the novice confused.

When Sala raised the question of what to do since their leader was gone Gareth had a ready answer. Unfortunately.

"What else but continue his plans and trek on to Comodo." He spoke so earnestly that for a moment Frey thought he was serious. Then the hunter snaked his arms around the knight's shoulders. "You're still keeping his bag of money and documents, right?"

"Yes…" answered Frey warily.

"Awright!" The hunter pumped a victorious fist. "Gambling and Gold!"

"Ga and Go," Sala dropped as they moved. The hunter flew to the front, acting so much like a little kid that Frey was laughing. Eviaren patiently waited until Sala took his hand and walked leisurely after the childish one. Frey, as always, took the position at the back. The knight gave one last lingering look before moving on.

* * *

"Acting is so hard for me."

The hunched priest easily stood straight, even leaning backwards a bit. Bits cracked—the result of the sudden change from bending for so long. He touched his sakkat and lazily tossed it aside, unleashing snowy white quills and cascading two loose spikes at either side of his face. He pulled off the Grampa beard and flung that as well, the mouth curling into an arrogant smile. He brushed his hand though his hair and removed the sunglasses, tucking it in one compartments of his belt. What were left were icy blue eyes which indolently took in the destruction before him. He was a striking man, not easily forgotten by those who meet him. Which might explain the disguise.

Time has been very kind to Matthew Dominic Ariel Bunemoir, the hundred and forty-fourth Bishop of the Cathedral of Angels Tears. He looked no younger than a man in his prime.

He was surveying the destruction caused by the Eddga, just the day before. Pure rubble…and plenty of burnt marks. The multiple circular patterns, messy that they maybe, indicated the use of a high-level wind spell. He kneeled down and picked up a piece of rubble. He picked very subtle signals of innate psychic power. Figures.

"Whites are bound to cause trouble. And in broad daylight and no warning, Dios Mio. At least no one died." He got in his feet and tossed the piece as he brooded.

It must have been the work of the so-called "god-like men", a family of supernatural beings wavering between the line of human and divine. Deus was the patriarch and the only male left of that immortal/mortal family. Bad things tend to happen to the guys… He had four daughters and only one has not been assigned a specific task. She was the youngest, making her the most rebellious and the most reckless. Inversely, she was also the weakest, a Poring compared to her sisters. It pays to have spies even if dealing with G.M.'s.

"I might have to deal with her. Then again I might not." He held the piece of rock against the sun. "The wheels of this design have already been set in motion long before I was born. In my hands were placed the power to keep it turning or have it stop. That doesn't mean—"he threw the bit upward and caught it again. "—I can't have my own plans."

"My dearest girl, I've managed to buy you the gift of reprieve. Enjoy it, for then the wheels of destiny will begin to careen downhill past the point of never return, dragging all the others with you..."

He slapped his hand against forehead and chuckled. "Look at me, having my own soliloquy." He inhaled deeply, relishing the forgotten smell of destruction. But just as well was the scent of peace.

"Well, the Cathedral could handle a few more days without me. Maybe I'll see Matilda and annoy the hell out of her."

The priest stopped playing with his rock and tightened his grip around it. The eyelids lowered and the air tensed around him.

"And, oh yes…" He spun and pitched the stone to the distance. At the resounding crack, an evil smile flitted his face before returning to a passive one.

"I can't have dark-possessed bards ruining my plans, can I?"

As he retrieved his shades, the gold locket he always kept with him got entwined with it. He opened the star-shaped locket and viewed at the smiling blond young woman with beautiful dark eyes. Father Matthew Dominic Ariel Bunemoir sighed to himself and safely tucked the locket. He procured a large violet afro wig, wore it along with the sunglasses and hummed to himself as he walked.

* * *

Kadilimna Gona slumped against a dirty slum wall. He clutched his right arm; the upper bones were shattered on impact by a rock. He cursed whoever did this as he watched his son, his nephew and the rest of the party walked away. Furious greens flashed and he suppressed the urge to slash the next person he saw. Only one person could have stopped him like this. It was the same priest who had impeded him from completing his vengeance on the pathetic village he was born. Now that the mage was gone, he would've thought it'd be easier to take Sel and deliver him to Mistress Liss but now this little injury will delay everything.

Damn it! He was right-handed!

_**

* * *

She cried in pain as something soft bit her knee. She sprawled to the ground, the biting sensation devouring everything. It was so cold—the exposed parts of her body began to heat and numb. A distorted voice called and she was abruptly heaved up. It was like the time she was in the desert, only worse was the frighteningly absence of warmth. **__Please let there be no knights..._She cried in pain as something soft bit her knee. She sprawled to the ground, the biting sensation devouring everything. It was so cold—the exposed parts of her body began to heat and numb. A distorted voice called and she was abruptly heaved up. It was like the time she was in the desert, only worse was the frighteningly absence of warmth. 

Instead a heavy cloth enveloped her, and two comforting hands circled her back. They ambled slowly, fighting the wind and cold white stuff striking her face. It was so familiar: the dark sky, the howling bitter winds, and the cold wetness under a piece of cloth. She tried to open her eyes but they continue to tear at her eyes. The voice shouted and a great flash light forced her to look up.

Zyriel held out one arm while firmly hugging her with the other. A small wall of fire blocked the incoming snow and wind. She shivered and the wall of fire spread into a circle and blazed higher.

"Are you all right?" gasped Zyriel. She nodded.

"Good. Listen, when this wall comes down, just cling close to me and I'll get us through this." She nodded again and hugged Zyriel's torso. Malas noticed that he only wore a short-sleeved black shirt, revealing numerous long scars on his bare arms, his usual leather gloves and long, loose sandy pants. How was he able to handle this weather in those clothes?

"Um...Zyriel?" The fires were dying down. "Will you be alright without your coat?"

His only response was to smile and hold her tightly, as they trudged against the snowstorm.

It was wrong to even think about it he was so glad he ended up in Lutie in the middle of a storm. Having her this close was so worth it.

* * *

Carol Pasko huddled before the fireplace, reading a story about evil Sasquatches. It read that they usually appear in a middle of a snowstorm. First they knock on unsuspecting people's doors, then call out their name to gain their trust but when the people open—BAM!—they find their souls stolen. She shivered at the prospect and sipped her hot chocolate. She choked on it when she heard the sudden pounding on the door. Pounding on the door? First sign…

"_Carol!"_ came the muffled cry.

**Eeek!** It was calling her name! The evil Sasquatches' second sign!

"Go away!" She hid herself with the blanket she had close by.

"_Open the door!"_

"Go away! You Sasquatch!"

"_Sasquatch? Carol, open the door!"_

She scrambled from beneath the cover and grabbed the fire poker and aimed it at the door. "You're not stealing my soul!"

"_Open up the damn door!"_

"NO!"

There was silence.

"_I've got gifts."_

Gifts? Now this was totally different. She pulled the thick, wooden door and tumbling along sleet and snow were two bodies that were definitely not Sasquatches. One was cloaked and the other was...Zyriel!

He shook off the wetness and pushed back the door behind him. He turned to the little girl. "You mind if a friend and I crash for a while?"

"No way! I mean—no, I wouldn't mind." She ran to the living room and swerved to the staircase next to it

"Big sis! SIS!" she sang. "One of the guys is here!"

Malas dropped the coat, dripping as the heat melted the icicles. Zyriel was no better, his black hair slicked down and his unfit clothes clung to him. He still held on to her, just a little more loosely and she was glad. She felt so weak from the excursion, having been so used to the climate of the desert. Even in Prontera, she had never been this cold.

"You okay?" Zyriel whispered. She responded by clinging tighter to him for the support. The mage scarcely felt wet from all the heat that his body was making. His trance was broken when hurried thumps came from above. A new voice came from the top of the stairs.

"Carol! Why are you making all that noise!"

"Sis, one of the guys is home!"

There was a pause then urgent downward steps. "Really? Who! Is it our dear boy, Sala?" The voice grew more and more excited as a whirl of red began to descend. "My knight in shining armor, Frey?"

"Nope!" cheerfully sang Carol.

There an unbridled squeal of delight and an explosion of red as the thief and mage were knocked down. Zyriel pushed away Malas at the last second so she was spared from the furious intensity of the tackle.

"My BABY GARETH! I've missed you soooo much!"

Baby? Gareth? Malas groaned and raised her head only to see the sight of woman in a thick red dress hugging Zyriel. She seemed a little too comfortable with him, nuzzling against him with a very feline smile on her face. There was a moment of intense emotion in her chest before it was replaced with wonder. She had called Gareth "her baby." Could she be Gareth's mother? But she didn't look old enough to be Gareth's mother. Heck, she didn't look old to be anyone's mother!

"Nice to see you too, Bel."

The woman (who looked more like a girl) fluttered her eyes and lifted her head of shining hair. She blinked her amber eyes at the blank gray ones of the boy.

"You're not my baby."

"A most brilliant deduction!"

"You!" The woman breathed and swiveled her head to sister. "Carol, what have I told you about letting in riffraff?"

The little girl answered with a sound like a kitten's mew.

Zyriel rolled his eyes. "I didn't you know you were _this_ happy to see me."

Her response to was to grab his collar and forced him standing. And even if Zyriel was taller than the girl, she managed to keep his toes from touching the floor—such raw strength! She growled at him, her beautiful features becoming feral. Malas had gotten up quietly and—fearing for Zyriel's life—quickly laid a hand on her dagger.

"You..." She growled again...then began shaking the mage back and forth. "Where's my poor baby! Why aren't you with him!" She stopped, tears welling her eyes. "You've left my poor helpless Gareth alone, haven't you? Haven't you!"

Zyriel was already used to this but he could understand the thief's bewildered look. Belen did that have effect on people. "Oi...Bel..."

"So where have left my poor innocent Gareth, you heathen! You inconsiderate monster! Where is my baby!" The girl drew him close, their faces practically millimeters from each other then…

Zyriel closed the gap and kissed her—leaving two girls in some serious shock.

* * *

A/n: Not quite how I've planned but it will do. Yeah, lacking in action but they finally got to Lutie.

Answers to reviews!

**Skye Mihalak:** Well, can't promise I won't put in any more Tagalog (or non-English) words since they were part of the original plan but I'm sure you'll get the gist of the story. Have a Lady Xeilisticia doll, peace!

**Tsuki Hoshi Hikari:** You remind me of angelstarhikaru. Thank you for your support! You get a Frey doll.

**Tom Valor:** Spiky-haired novice:) That still makes me laugh. Thanks, Kuya! Have a Ratty doll.

**Reikua:** Dontcha worry—you're definitely right! I really intended for him to use Wizard-level spells. Why? If everything goes well, then the explanation will be on Chapter Nine, the beginning of the four part background stories of Devil's Mischief. I'm kinda embarrassed by your warm compliments. (blush) A Zyriel doll for you.

**Northernsword:** Thank you and here's a Kadilimna doll.

**Annika Lee: **Yay! She reviewed! It's always a pleasure when you review! I'll let the characters speak for themselves. Sala's fuming because you think he and Gareth are brothers.  
Sala: mumble...mumble...idiot!  
L.C.: Now, now...technically speaking, you could be considered brothers. In fact, you're eligible to be his half-brother!  
Sala: Grr...I'd rather kiss Lily!  
L.C. (snaps fingers, sending the alchemist screaming into the abyss where Lily is waiting): Be my guest. Why is Sally so high blood when it comes to Gareth? The number eleven will hopefully explain this.  
(Frey holds up a sign, "I Got a Fangirl!")  
Gareth: Hey, no stealing!  
L.C.: Speaking of Frey, I was absently drawing him when I noticed that he looks a lot like Keough from Ragnarok the Animation!  
Gareth: 'Coz he has long spiky white-blond hair?  
L.C.: But he usually keeps it under that "Aesir Helm" of his. Hope you enjoyed your cameo but now I've got to change Flight of An Angel (groan). This happened after Vermilion met Zhang Kai but before you went back to Prontera. Sorry 'bout your doll, in the meantime, have this Angel of Vengeance doll. Please don't hurt me.

**Puppkid:** Not like a Ragnarok fan fiction? Dude, I'm starting to worry. How is this not like Ragna? Even if you say you like it that way, I'm still worried. (Blinks) Well, some of it was well thought out for months but others were changed in the spur of the moment. Did you say chaos? Have my extra Fr. Matthew doll!

I think the reason many people think that this is a well-written work because of the first two chapters. It kinda makes me sad...my writing skills need to improve. I see the images in my head but the words refuse to come out...At least Matthew's here. Long live Matthew!


End file.
